


The Phoenix

by shadowsong26



Category: Original Work, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, also several characters from the aforementioned original work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 32,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsong26/pseuds/shadowsong26
Summary: About halfway between The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, Luke and Vader crashland onto a planet that is essentially a typical fantasy world. Shenanigans ensueA crossover with my original fantasy world, The Farglass Cycle





	1. Chapter 1

It was quiet when Darth Vader regained consciousness.

He was no longer strapped into his starfighter, which argued for his crash site, wherever it was, being within reach of some sort of native sentient life. Even if he had ejected--which he was fairly certain he hadn’t had time to do--the crash webbing would have kept him in his seat, otherwise.

It was quiet, allowing him to review everything he knew about what had happened.

He had finally caught up with Luke, shortly after his son had left the shelter of the Rebel fleet, slipping off by himself in an X-wing for some purpose Vader had yet to determine. The two of them had chased each other for nearly a full standard day, microjump after microjump; until the crash.

It was quiet, and Vader still wasn’t quite sure what had _caused_ said crash.

He had been the one in pursuit at the time. Of that he was now certain; Luke had not been in a position to shoot him down, and there had been no other detectable fighters in range. The two of them had come out of hyperspace for the seventh time in that hour and--ah, yes, now he recalled. They’d run headfirst into an unexpected gravity well. Even his customized TIE fighter had been unable to compensate, and so he’d crashed. Presumably, Luke had as well.

It was quiet, giving Vader ample time and space to consider the source of that unexpected gravity well.

 _An uncharted system,_ he decided, after a moment. Any type of Interdictor cruiser, or similar installation, would not have resulted in a survivable crash--he would either have been able to compensate, or he would have been killed. Besides, there were several unexplored systems scattered throughout the galaxy. And he and Luke had been on the edges of the Unknown Regions. Not the direction Outbound Flight had gone--though why that long-ago voyage had sprung to mind _now,_ he wasn’t certain--but the Unknown Regions still.

It was quiet; all he could hear was faint birdsong drifting through a soft breeze, which carried no harmful chemical traces he could detect.

 _Good,_ he thought. That meant a tolerable atmosphere, which would give him more time to find Luke. He knew the boy was still alive, of course, but on an unknown planet with uncertain technical capabilities, the more time he had to track him down, the better. And while _he_ had the means to survive in--

It was quiet.

It was _quiet._

_He couldn’t hear himself breathe._

The next instant, he was on his feet, eyes open, lightsaber springing to life in his right hand. Even without the added IR and UV layers he’d grown accustomed to enhancing his vision-- _strange, how the world is both more and less detailed without them_ \--Vader took in a great deal of information in that first glance.

He was in an entirely wooden room, plain but solidly furnished; the type of irregular architecture found on Kashyyyk and other forested words; all built to human scale; shaped vaguely like a trapezoid with soft, almost curving corners. One wall was made of a section of a broad trunk, about twice as wide as he was tall; one of the others had an open entryway, no door, screened only by a curtain of what appeared to be woven plant fibers; a third had a window that, from this angle, showed him little more than a tangle of branches; the fourth was behind him--he’d woken up in a bed bolted to it.

The _next_ instant, he nearly fell; he was off-balance, lighter than he should have been by far, and had failed to compensate for it in his panic.

He growled faintly and sat back down on the bed, extinguishing his lightsaber. That would _not_ do; fear could be a valuable tool, but blind panic was worse than useless. With the self-discipline born from decades of training, he shut it down.

So, here was what he knew: he had crashed on an unknown, uncharted planet, and been taken in by a human or near-human arboreal society. From what he had detected thus far, there was limited technology on this planet--and yet, they had the medical skills or resources to do the _impossible._

Because, quite clearly, _they had done it._ He was out of his armor for the first time in decades--and he was _still alive._

He considered the possibility that the whole experience was some sort of bizarre hallucination, and quickly dismissed it. The only drugs he could detect in his system were fading traces of the types of sedatives primitive surgeons gave their patients. Nothing stronger; certainly nothing that could conjure up something this...vivid.

Nor was it a dream; he rarely dreamed anymore, but when he did, he either saw himself as he was, or as he _should_ have been, but for Obi-Wan betraying him and cutting him down on Mustafar. Never like this; with his scars and his extra prosthetics and the red lightsaber he had built to fit his new life--but, at the same time, with no mask, no respirator.

And, he realized, with a _substantial_ reduction in pain.

Pain had become background noise for him in the last twenty-two years, much like the incessant rasp of his breathing. Whatever the natives of this planet had done to him-- _for_ him--it had _halved_ that pain, or come close to doing so.

Vader had scarcely had time to do more than realize that fact when a whisper of a mind approaching brought his attention to more practical concerns. He adjusted his grip on his still-deactivated lightsaber, considering. On the one hand, everything he’d observed so far suggested that this was a fairly primitive society, and nothing indicated they were holding him prisoner. On the other, even primitives could do a great deal of damage, particularly when defending their homes. And there was a truism in at least seven languages that he knew, to the effect of--the most powerful healers were also the most adept murderers, should they choose to attempt it. Add to that the fact that he hadn’t yet grown accustomed to his new center of gravity…

 _Patience,_ he decided, clipping the lightsaber back to his belt. _There will be time enough for that later._

The curtain on the entryway moved aside, admitting an unarmed girl. She was human, brown-haired and brown-eyed, Luke’s age or a bit younger; perhaps tall enough to reach Vader’s shoulder, if he were standing. In other words, utterly innocuous, to the untrained eye.

But, even without his filters, _he_ could still see deeper.

There was an aura of power clinging to the girl; unfamiliar, but substantial. _One of the healers,_ he guessed.

She blinked and paused, halfway through the doorway. He sensed a faint tendril of surprise.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly--interesting, no language barrier. “I thought I’d be back before you woke up.”

“Where am I?” he asked. His voice surprised him, a little. Obviously, it wasn’t the amplified voice he’d grown used to over the past two decades, but it wasn’t quite his old voice, either--it was rougher, with a different pitch. Older, and scarred still.

He chose not to acknowledge her apology--it might have made a difference in the moment, had she been here, but not necessarily in the way she thought. Her presence could have either set off that brief panic faster or stilled it faster, and so he would have killed her or he wouldn’t have. But she hadn’t been there, and the moment had passed, and now he could approach her rationally for what she was--a source of intelligence on where he was and what had happened.

“You’re in the Sixth City of Heartwood,” she said. “You fell out of the sky in our territory, and you needed healing, so we brought you here.”

The name itself meant very little to him, but he hadn’t really expected much clarity from it. Still, her answer did provide _some_ useful information. The ‘Sixth City’ told him there were at least five other population centers on the planet. Possibly more; ‘Heartwood’ might indicate a region, rather than a name for the planet as a whole, and primitive planets like this one were not always unified.

And she had described his crash as ‘falling out of the sky.’ The phrasing indicated that this society was likely not even advanced enough for atmospheric flight, let alone space travel. That would make it more difficult to track Luke and make the repairs he needed to his fighter to get off this rock.

Of course, all he _really_ needed to do to get offplanet was get his long-range comm operational, and then call for an extraction. Depending on the full extent of the damage to his ship, that might take some time, but likely wouldn’t cause him serious difficulties. He could always cannibalize parts he wouldn’t need if he wasn’t planning on flying it again. Still, it would help to know what he had to work with. He flicked briefly through the girl’s surface thoughts, in case she’d seen the wreck, but all she had to offer was the memory of a burst of fire across the sky. Pity.

“When was this?”

“Nine days ago,” she said.

 _Nine days._ Assuming the local rotations were approximately equal to standard days, that gave Luke an extensive head start. Possibly long enough to repair his own fighter and slip away. _Again._

 _No,_ he thought. _No, Luke is still on this planet. I am certain of that._

The timeframe also indicated that their sedatives, however primitive, were a great deal more effective than he’d initially guessed.

The girl watched him, her expression remaining calm and neutral and professional, but Vader could feel spiky tendrils of anxiety starting to spin out of her. “We don’t normally keep people sedated for so long,” she said, with a slight increase in speed and pitch that more matched her feeling than her face. “But the healing that you needed was extensive, and our Eldest said you should be kept under until we were sure that--”

“Enough,” he said.

She shut up, and backed half a step away from him.

“Your Eldest rules here?” he asked, after a moment. Whoever that was, they were more likely to give him actual information than this child.

She nodded.

“Take me,” he said.

The girl frowned, then took a deep breath, steeling herself. Internally, it was as if she was shoving those fear-spikes into a box and sitting on it. “No,” she said. “We--”

“I said, _take me,_ ” he repeated, putting a command to it.

She resisted, shaking her head again. “We haven’t finished healing you yet,” she said. The spikes were clawing their way out of their box, but she held her ground.

He pushed harder. “ _Take. Me._ ”

She wavered, but didn’t break. And if he tried again, he risked leaving her as a drooling mess on the floor. Which would cause more problems than it solved. For now.

He let up the pressure, and she sagged against the wall, breathing hard. He could sense that everything in her wanted to flee the room, but she ignored those instincts. She straightened up once again and, with grim determination that was almost amusing, took another half-step towards him instead.

“Here’s what I suggest,” she said, her voice only shaking a little.

“I’m listening.”

“You will cooperate while I examine you and give you another round of healing. Depending on where things stand after, I will go see if the Eldest is in another session. If she isn’t, I can arrange a meeting. _If_ everything goes well in our session, and you don’t do that...that… _whatever_ it was you just tried to do to me again. Agreed?”

He considered for a moment. Accepting her bargain would mean further delays, and he had already wasted nine days here. _For a given value of ‘wasted,’ anyway._ It would also leave him vulnerable to whatever her power might do to him. On the other hand, it would give him an opportunity to closely observe that same power, and he hungered for that.

Besides, he sensed no deception in her; she had no intentions of lulling him into complacency only to harm or restrain him, or even merely sedate him again ‘for his own protection.’ And, he reluctantly admitted to himself, he felt _drained._ Perhaps there was some merit to her claims that he wasn’t fully healed yet. Even if he was, somehow, _breathing on his own_ and in little pain.

“Very well,” he said.

The girl visibly relaxed. Her thoughts became more steady as well; she felt herself on surer ground now, _familiar_ ground.

Even better. He could use her complacency against her, should she attempt anything he didn’t like.

“Lie back, please,” she said.

An entirely expected request, and he complied without further argument.

The girl crossed the room and knelt next to the bed. “This may feel strange, but try to relax.”

Predictable again. He chose not to acknowledge the warning, and focused on opening all of his senses to observe her powers.

To his vast annoyance, he couldn’t detect the actual power itself. Not directly. There was no accompanying surge in the Force as he had expected, nor was there a rush of heat or glowing light, as with the witches of Dathomir or others who called their power ‘magic.’ There was _something,_ he knew, but he would need to see it repeated several more times--or perhaps just on another test subject--before he could separate the power itself from its effects.

Attempting to divine what she was doing by watching her thoughts proved equally unhelpful, at least on this first try. However her ability worked, it was far enough outside Vader’s experience that her thoughts came across as gibberish. Much like attempting to read an alien mind, of a species he had never encountered before.

He did have the physical effects of her power to start from, at least. He wasn’t _completely_ blind. He could track those effects with minimal effort and--she had called it ‘strange.’ This proved to be a massive understatement.

A rippling sense of _awareness_ spread across his body, down every nerve--no, not the nerves. Down every _vein,_ every artery, every capillary, spiraling out from his heart to his scalp, to the very edges of his truncated limbs.

 _It’s the blood,_ he realized. _Whatever it is she’s doing, it’s rooted in my blood._ The implications were intriguing, even from this first merely diagnostic sweep. Once she could see, presumably she could manipulate. To heal, of course, and that remained her intention; but with this power it would also be a simple matter to rupture the vessels internally, to separate layers of skin and muscle, to crush organs.

Once he learned how to replicate this power, it would be _very_ useful, indeed.

That _awareness_ retreated after a few seconds, rippling through his body to focus on a small section of his abdomen. He could feel her delicately begin to scrape at what must have been a buildup of scar tissue, peeling it away in small slivers. A few moments of this, and she began to carefully move what she’d gathered along his blood vessels, towards the skin.

He tensed, slightly. _This_ was more dangerous than he had expected, and required great precision and control. A minor mistake on her part could cause a stroke, or a heart attack. He had _not_ come this far, had not tolerated all of this, merely to--

“Try to relax,” she said softly. “This is easier when I don’t have to fight your heart too much.”

He growled under his breath, but did as she asked. Whether or not she was objectively right, _she_ certainly believed what she’d said was true, and he had no desire to interfere with her concentration under these circumstances.

“Thank you,” she said. She produced a thin-bladed knife--some kind of steel; this planet was advanced enough for decent metal tools, at least--and made a small incision just above where her power was collected, using it to carefully draw out the scar tissue she had removed. She set the knife and the bloody mess aside, then narrowed her focus again, making minute adjustments to his vessels to repair the incision, neat and even as if she had never cut him at all.

Her power remained active for a few moments more, working in the area from which she had removed the scarring, knitting the deeper tissues together in much the same way she had the outer layers.

That completed, she disengaged with a sigh and sat back on her heels. “That’s enough for now, I think. You can sit up, if you want. _Slowly._ ”

He rose--which caused immediate and not insignificant vertigo; some sort of side effect of what the girl had done--sifting through the information he’d gained by observing her. Whatever else happened, however long it took him to find Luke, he would call for an extraction the moment he got his comm working. This girl and her power--especially if there were _more_ like her, and she had consistently used plural pronouns--were far too valuable to leave behind. His fighter only seated one, but that was immaterial. Certainly he couldn’t kill her, no matter how much she annoyed him. Not yet.

As for the effects of this ‘session,’ as she’d called it…

Vader felt no appreciable difference, other than the vertigo, which began to fade after a moment. But she _had_ done something, changed something. A droplet only, but enough droplets, piled together, made a river.

Nine days’ worth of such droplets had freed him from the armor.

 _Strange. I haven’t thought of it as a prison in years. It simply_ is. _Or was._

He shelved that thought for now. He would have plenty of time to meditate on it after he had located his son and arranged their extraction. In the meantime, he had smaller, more immediate steps he needed to take.

“So,” he said. “I have cooperated. You promised me a meeting with your Eldest.”

She made a face, and sighed again. “I will go see if she’s in session. I make no guarantees, but I will ask.”

“Fine.”

She pushed herself up and headed for the door. “Please wait here. I’ll be back soon, whatever she says.”

He nodded once. He would use the time to make a more thorough exploration of the room, and make the necessary adjustments for his new center of gravity.

She looked relieved that he wasn’t arguing anymore, and pushed through the curtain, leaving him alone once more.


	2. Chapter 2

The ‘Eldest’ was aptly named--or, more likely, titled. Like the girl, she was human, and looked to be at least eighty standard years, perhaps older. Her features, beneath the mass of wrinkles, bore a distinct resemblance to the girl’s, though Vader wasn’t yet certain if that was a sign of a relatively isolated ethnic group or an actual familial relationship.

“So,” she said, sizing him up. “You are our visitor who fell from the sky.”

“And you are the Eldest. I am told you rule here.”

She laughed. “In council with the other Eldests, yes.”

Of course. _Bureaucracy._

He felt another ripple of amusement from her, and reminded himself that he still needed her information and cooperation. For the moment.

“So, Sky Visitor, what do you want to know?”

He bristled further at that. It was entirely too close to--

“My name is Vader,” he said curtly.

“Vader, then,” she said, as if it meant little to her. “Our Youngest said you had questions for me. Ask.”

_Information first,_ he reminded himself. _Then retaliation._ “I want to see the wreckage from my crash.”

“The metal box you fell in?” she said. “Yes, we can show you. It’s about two miles through the woods, so I would advise against going today. But soon.”

He pulled a vague estimate of what a mile was from the girl’s mind--the Youngest, whatever that title meant; he had sensed children, so she wasn’t simply the youngest in the village; perhaps she was the youngest fully-trained healer? In any case, assuming she was any accurate judge of distance, two miles would be a little more than three kilometers. Depending on how difficult or obstructed the path there was, he likely would be unable to reach it before dark, hence the Eldest’s advice to wait. Fine. “And I want to see the other crash site as well.”

She frowned. “We found no other metal boxes. There was another burst of flame in the sky, on the same day, but it disappeared to the south.”

So, Luke was not in this Eldest’s territory. That made things somewhat inconvenient, but otherwise changed nothing.

“Then I will go south,” he said.

“I would not advise that,” she said. “Feredar is not hospitable to mages.”

The sense he got attached to that word was the exercise of power; what the healers here had done was one variant, but there were others. And, very likely, his own abilities--and Luke’s--would be perceived by the planet’s natives as another variation on the same theme. Despite the fact that they seemed unrelated.

“That is immaterial,” he said. “I _must_ locate the pilot from that wreck. I was following him when we fell.”

The Eldest’s eyes narrowed. “We do not interfere in foreign wars,” she said. “If danger comes to us, we will defend ourselves, but we are not aggressors, and we do not borrow others’ trouble. We _will not_ help you seek your enemy.”

There was history behind that policy; bloody, violent history. Vader didn’t need to read her mind to find it; it was more than clear in her tone and body language.

He considered lying directly, rather than merely by omission--the fewer people who knew what he and Luke were to each other, the better. But these people had no other context for their relationship. And Luke would not be his enemy much longer. Besides, she could likely read certain physiological tells for a lie--and, as he kept reminding himself, he still needed her cooperation, for now.

“He is my son,” he said.

“Ah,” she said, leaning back. “I understand now. Of course, that changes things. One’s bloodline is vital, after all.” She sent a shrewd glance at the Youngest, who flushed and looked away.

_Interesting._

“Still,” the Eldest continued, turning her focus back to Vader, “I advise against it. You are not yet fully healed, and Feredar is, as I said, unfriendly to mages. And likely to be at war with its neighbors soon.”

“That is immaterial,” he repeated. “I _will_ find my son.”

The Eldest studied him for a long moment. “Three days,” she said. “You will remain here, under our care, for three more days. And you will bring one of our healers with you, when you go.” Her eyes flicked briefly over to the Youngest again. “Seelia, I think, would be the best choice.”

The girl stiffened, and blurted something in a dialect Vader didn’t recognize.

_So, they have a trade-tongue of sorts that I can understand, and their own unique language that I cannot. Interesting._ His first instinct was to record their conversation for later analysis, but without the armor, he lacked the capability.

The Eldest, unruffled, responded in the same language.

The Youngest bowed her head and muttered something, sullenly acquiescing.

“So. Seelia will accompany you, when you leave,” the Eldest resumed calmly, as if the discipline of her hall had not just been breached. “Arin will as well. He is Unthreaded--a metal-mage--and has been assisting us with your care.”

‘Unthreaded’ meant an atypical variant of their powers for the region, he guessed. And metal-mage--yes, given the level of tech this planet seemed to possess, they might have used one to remove the armor without causing further damage.

The Youngest interrupted again, and the Eldest’s rebuke was much sharper this time. Even so, the girl glared a moment longer than she had after the first interruption before reluctantly backing down again.

_Either Seelia or Arin is someone she doesn’t wish to see leave their home,_ Vader thought, flicking through the Youngest’s surface thoughts again. There were recurring images of herself and a boy, near the same age, with similar coloring and features, with a tangle of intense emotions surrounding them. _Arin, more likely,_ he decided. _She wants to keep him close--perhaps she is jealous of this Seelia._

“That arrangement will suffice,” he said. Three days’ further delay didn’t please him, but he did still need to investigate the wreckage of his fighter. That would take time. And, as both the Youngest and the Eldest had repeatedly pointed out to him, he was not yet fully healed. He knew they weren’t lying; while overall he felt fine--better than he had in years, in most ways--there were a dozen little details, minor sensations, that indicated that his status was still somewhat precarious. Avoiding the Eldest’s proposed delay would probably just mean longer ones in the future, deep in actively hostile territory. Vader was, of course, perfectly confident that he could overcome any such dangers, regardless of whether he followed the healers’ advice, but he was no longer young or foolish enough to invite them just to prove he could.

Another strange thought, reminding him of events he hadn’t thought about in years. He didn’t like it.

_The sooner I find Luke and get off this planet, the better._

“And you will cooperate with us until you leave Heartwood,” the Eldest said. “No more attempting to force your will on our Youngest, or anyone else. Is that clear?”

“Fine,” he said. Arguing would only mean more delays. Besides, if such a thing became necessary, he had every intention of ignoring that part of this agreement.

This seemed to satisfy her. “I would suggest that you go back to your room now. Arin will take you to your metal box tomorrow.”

“Very well,” he said. He bowed briefly--a small courtesy, since he outranked her substantially in the greater scheme of things--then turned to follow the Youngest back to the room where he’d awakened.


	3. Chapter 3

The night was strange.

Mostly, it was a neutral sort of strange; while Vader was quickly growing accustomed to the breathless quiet, and to seeing and hearing things directly, rather than through the filters of his mask, it didn’t feel _normal_ again just yet. And there were other senses, senses he had all but forgotten, combining to make the world that much more uncanny--taste. _Texture._ His perceptions had, sometime in the past nine days, become a bizarre combination of sensory deprivation and sensory overload, and he hadn’t yet worked out how to process it all.

Still, these were merely changes, and they would cease to distract him in time. He had, after all, adjusted to far worse things in the past. And the background noise, while not what he usually dealt with--he spent most of his time on the _Executor_ or Imperial Center, rather than a temperate woodland on a non-industrialized planet--was no more difficult to tune out than the pattern of ambient life energy that was its primary cause.

He had even _slept,_ something that--between the pain and the noise of his breathing, which he had never quite learned to ignore--had been elusive for the past twenty years.

But with sleep had come dreams; dreams of fire that were and were not Mustafar; dreams of severed hands and blood and desperation; dreams of cold rain and something sharp at his throat, that faded into dreams of endless sands.

And dreams of his failure at Cloud City.

He woke after approximately two hours, mind still seething over those memories.

He had done _everything_ right. He had planned for every possible contingency. He had even been prepared for Luke to deny the truth at first--after all, he had been where Luke was, once upon a time. Misguided, hesitant, unaware of exactly what was necessary to bring order and peace to the galaxy, to gain the power to--

In any case, it had taken his master _years_ to turn him. Vader had only just begun with his son. He hadn’t thought it _likely_ Luke would resist that long, not when confronted with the truth, but he had prepared for it nonetheless.

And yet, despite his careful planning, despite all his precautions, Luke had slipped through his fingers. The _Millennium Falcon_ ’s hyperdrive had been reactivated at the last second, and he had gotten away. Vader hadn’t even managed to emerge from the confrontation with the Rebel Princess or Calrissian as a consolation prize. Only the bounty hunter had gotten what he wanted, and Vader had never liked giving Boba Fett what he wanted.

And Luke had--

Vader had held out his hand, had offered him _everything,_ the galaxy on a platter. But he had refused--the boy’s rejection could not have been more clear. Vader had done _everything_ right, had offered him everything he could possibly have wanted, and _still,_ he had turned away.

_Just like--_

No.

Vader stood up and made his way to the window, staring out at the moonlight and seeking a distraction in the plentiful ambient life.

_There._ A small, nocturnal scavenger; a simple beast with a simple mind, but simple minds were not always easy to hold, particularly against a backdrop of thousands of similarly simple minds. Tracking it--her--would be a useful focusing exercise.

She was nosing around in the underbrush at the base of the tree, seeking something that smelled sweet. Vader borrowed her senses, and found it first; an egg, buried not quite carefully enough by some sort of ground-nesting bird. He nudged the little predator’s mind, turning her head in the right direction. A simple, instinctual pleasure filtered through her mind, as she dug through the earth half-concealing the nest and rolled the egg out of it. Her den was close; she would bring the egg to it, where her young, now no longer nursing, were eagerly--

_No._

Vader wrenched his mind away from the creature’s, gripping the lower ledge of the window tight enough that the wood creaked under his artificial hands.

So much for a distraction.

_Soon,_ he promised himself, his thoughts drifting towards the south, where Luke was waiting for him, somewhere. _Soon, I will clean up the last loose ends from Cloud City. I_ will _have him this time._

But the loose ends weren’t from Cloud City, were they. They were from _Mustafar._

Vader had, for a time, considered the idea that his master had somehow known the child had survived. But he’d rejected it months ago. The Emperor had been just as surprised as he was when the boy’s name came up on intercepted Rebel comm chatter. Vader was sure of that.

_But if the boy lived, if the child was_ born _, then perhaps that means I didn’t--_

It didn’t matter. What mattered was Mustafar. If Obi-Wan hadn’t betrayed him there, hadn’t cut him down, hadn’t stolen Luke from him, _none_ of this would have been necessary. Luke would have been at his side from the beginning, as he should have been. As was _right._

But Obi-Wan had taken Luke, had stolen _his child--_

Which, if Vader were completely honest with himself, from Obi-Wan’s perspective, had been a wise decision. In fact, he himself might have done the same thing, had their positions been reversed.

_Since when do I give a damn about_ Obi-Wan’s _perspective?_

Vader growled under his breath and shoved himself away from the window. None of this was helping. None of this was accomplishing anything. And he would be stuck here, _waiting,_ for three days. Three more days--and eerie nights--of _this._

He had never been very good at waiting. And this planet was doing strange things to his mind, as strange as the things the Youngest and her healers had done to his body, but nowhere near as constructive. And the more he waited, the more his thoughts twisted in on themselves.

_Not true,_ a quiet voice somewhere in the back of his mind said. _This has been happening since long before you crashed here. Since before Cloud City, even--since you first heard Luke Skywalker’s name._

True, but the strange powers and the strange night here on this planet had made things _worse._

_Perhaps._

He shoved those thoughts away and cast about for another distraction. His hand found his lightsaber, which--good. Yes. That would be perfect. He had grown accustomed to his new balance easily enough for basic motor functions--walking, sitting, standing, and so on. But, last time, it had taken him weeks to adjust his ‘saber techniques before for even basic proficiency, and months to be truly effective with it again.

This time, he had three days.

That would do. He always handled things better when he was moving, anyway. And, what he had perhaps lost in strength and sheer mass, he had regained in range of motion. He wouldn’t be able to completely return to his old style, of course--his prosthetics still lacked the dexterity he needed. But he could, for example, raise his arms all the way above his head again, and that reopened old doors and old possibilities.

Yes. Adjusting his style again and regaining his skill could keep him occupied during his idle hours the next three days. He might even enjoy himself.

He let out a breath--one _he_ controlled--and poured all of his focus into the blade in his hands as he began running through the most basic forms.


	4. Chapter 4

When the Youngest came to see Vader again the next morning, she was in no better mood than she had been during his meeting with the Eldest; she was even less happy when she saw how busy he’d been. He’d just finished running one of his former favorite Djem So set patterns. His execution was still less than perfect, but he once again had the reach to do it with only a few very minor adjustments. By the time he left the Sixth City, he would be ready for whatever obstacles he might face.

“You should be resting,” the Youngest pointed out from the doorway. “If you push yourself too hard, you won’t be well enough to leave when you planned.”

He simply stared at her, waiting a second or two before extinguishing his lightsaber as slowly as he could. She kept her eyes on it; it clearly made her nervous. Good. “I will leave the day after tomorrow,” he said, clipping the weapon back to his belt. “Whether or not you approve.”

“You promised you’d cooperate with us.”

“And I have cooperated,” he said. But if they tried to keep him here past when he’d agreed, they would learn _exactly_ how uncooperative he could be.

Even without the Force, she could probably detect the threat there. He would be very surprised if she hadn’t; he had meant her to, after all, and subtlety had never exactly been his strong suit anyway.

Wisely, she decided not to push him. “Lay down, please,” she said. “We’ll have another session, and then Arin should be here to take you to your box.”

“Very well,” he said, and positioned himself as before.

This time, he was prepared for the sensation. Still, he didn’t gain much more information than he had watching the Youngest work before.

_I’ll have to create an opportunity for her to work on someone else,_ he decided. _See if that’s any easier to analyze._

This session was longer and more involved than the previous one, too. Whether she was doing that to get Vader out of her home faster, or to, by exhausting him, passive-aggressively delay his--and her friend’s--departure, he couldn’t quite tell. Either way, she wasn’t pushing him past the boundaries of what he could tolerate, so he saw no need to change his plans or interfere with hers. Speeding up the process, after all, was hardly something he objected to at this time.

As the Youngest was withdrawing, someone tapped on the outer edge of the doorframe.

_Probably Arin,_ Vader thought. He couldn’t get much detail out of the newcomer’s mind--one of those with no actual Force sensitivity but strong natural shields--but it was unlikely anyone else would disturb them.

“We’re finished in here,” she called in response.

And, sure enough, the curtain swished aside to show the boy Vader had noted in the Youngest’s surface thoughts. He had the same general build and coloring as she did, but with a rounder, flatter face. This suggested that the resemblance he’d noticed between the Eldest and the Youngest was somewhat more than regional ethnic similarity. Based on the comment the Eldest had made about bloodlines, they were likely direct relatives. Grandmother and granddaughter; perhaps another generation removed.

The Youngest’s emotional state flickered madly when she saw Arin; and, based solely on the way he was looking at her, Vader guessed the boy’s was much the same. There was definitely _something_ intense between them, with perhaps very little support or approval.

Not that it mattered, of course. Other than as something he could perhaps exploit later, when he was traveling with Arin and Seelia--whoever she was, and however she fit into their relationship.

The boy shook off the moment first. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, uh, is everything...uh, are we all set to go?” He glanced over at Vader briefly, but most of his attention was still on the Youngest.

“Yes,” she said. “Be careful, and go slowly--he likes to push, so you may have to hold him in place.”

Which she said in their trade-tongue, knowing Vader could understand, rather than their local dialect. She wanted him to overhear that warning. _Ha._ He chose to find it amusing, mostly because it was. Arin was expected to control him by means of his prosthetics, most likely, given that whatever it was he did was tied to metal, but Vader was certain he could counter whatever the boy might throw at him. He might even attempt to force a confrontation, to see how _that_ power variant worked.

Arin shifted uncomfortably and carefully looked anywhere but at Vader. “Right. I’ll, uh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” the Youngest said. She hesitated for half a second, another storm pounding through her mind, then shook her head and left the room, passing just close enough to Arin to brush his hand. Vader noted the gesture clinically, and refused to think about it further.

The boy watched after her for a moment, then dragged his attention back into the room. “We should go, if we want to have enough light to come back by,” he said. “It gets dark pretty quick under the canopy.”

Vader nodded. “Very well. Lead the way.”

Arin headed through the curtain, and Vader followed him down the same narrow lane along the inside of the structure he and the Youngest had taken the previous day. This time, however, Arin turned at the first opportunity, down another narrow passageway. This one had a door at the end, rather than merely a curtain; it opened out onto a perfectly even deck with a solid, uncarved railing along the outer edge.

“The stairs are over this way,” Arin said, pointing to the left. “Or there’s the lift, which is how we brought you in after we found you. That might be better, actually.” He started to turn to the right.

Vader considered for a minute. While he was somewhat curious to see how, in a technically deficient society like this one, they’d engineered a lift, he was more concerned with getting to his fighter and getting his comm unit operational again as quickly as possible. He had no idea how slow the lift would be, or how much lateral distance it would require to get to it. And the balcony was, based on his best estimate, no more than seven or eight meters off the ground.

“Wait, what are you--”

He didn’t bother to listen to the boy’s objections. He vaulted over the railing, landing solidly on the ground at the base of the tree. He had grown accustomed enough to his new center of gravity that he didn’t waver at all with the impact. Good.

When he looked up, Arin, gone slightly pale, was leaning half-over the railing, one arm outstretched as if to catch him.

“As you said,” Vader called up to him, “we have limited daylight. And this seemed the most efficient route down.”

“You could have--but--you…” Arin trailed off, then took a deep breath. “Please don’t do that again.”

He merely smiled.

The boy looked distinctly uncomfortable again and let go of the railing. “I’m going down the stairs,” he said. “You can meet me there.”

“Very well.” He kept pace with the boy along the balcony, about a quarter of the way around the structure. The stairs, when they came into view, proved to be more of a wide, steep ladder; Vader could see joints in it approximately every third rung. Likely it could be folded up, in the event of a natural disaster such as a flood, or any kind of attack on the building.

As they walked, he scanned the city for further details. The building he and Arin had come out of was the largest in view, and seemed to be on the edge of the settlement. Most of the trees had at least one building; some had two or three. There were a few structures clustered on the ground as well; Vader guessed these were designed for work that was too dangerous to be done up above.

The canopy, either by nature or husbandry, was tangled and dense; most of the inhabited trees had branches that touched, or at minimum came very close to touching. These connecting branches were reinforced with walkways, some with railings, some without, for easy travel around the village without having to climb all the way down. There were also, he noted, reasonably worn pathways on the forest floor, and not all led to one of the ground structures or obviously towards the edge of the settlement.

That edge was defined primarily by a shift from the patchwork of pathways and gardens to a more dense, wild-looking undergrowth. There was no visible wall or defensive ditch; that supported what the Eldest had told him: that this region of the planet avoided initiating armed conflict, and did not particularly expect it to come for them. Peaceful enough to rely on the forest itself, and the probable difficulty of finding the settlement without an aerial survey, for protection.

Of course, the Eldest had also mentioned a war brewing to the south. Where Luke was.

_Soon,_ he reminded himself, reaching the bottom of the ladder a moment before Arin did. _And, half-trained or not, Luke can handle anything this planet might threaten him with. Besides. If he_ were _in any serious danger, I would know._

“This way,” Arin said, pointing towards the trees. “Let me know if you need to stop for a while. I can’t tell the way the healers can.”

Vader nodded, though he had no intention of stopping until they reached his fighter.

The boy didn’t push the point beyond that, but led the way into the underbrush. There was a path there; narrow and well-concealed, but something more than a natural animal trail and something less than the ground-level pathways he’d noted in the village. Still, it was somewhat more than Vader had expected. Arin kept stealing little glances over at him. He probably thought he was being discreet; he wasn’t. Whatever he was thinking--whether he was considering what the Youngest had said, or simply had questions of his own he wanted answered--he kept it to himself, and Vader let him.

The two of them continued down the path without speaking for a little less than an hour before Vader began to see signs of the crash. Mostly in terms of damage to the canopy, though there were a few small bits and pieces that had probably broken off the fighter in the atmosphere.

They broken into what must have been a new clearing after that. There was some charring to the trees, and Vader’s fighter was still caught in the canopy. He stopped to study it from the ground for a moment. The engines, surprisingly, looked more or less intact. The wings would need extensive repairs if he were to use this ship to leave the planet, but that was a lesser concern. Further detailed examination would require a closer look. There didn’t seem to be a clear or safe way up into the canopy, particularly given that the branches nearest the fighter were almost certainly heavily damaged.

He took a step back, closed his eyes, and caught hold of the fighter to lower it down.

Next to him, Arin’s breath caught, and he whispered, “I _knew_ it.”

Vader waited to respond until the fighter was settled on the ground. “Knew what?” he asked, heading for the cracked-open cockpit to see what he could make of the internal controls.

“You’re...like me,” Arin said. “A metal-mage. See--the Youngest said you were a sound-mage, but that didn’t make any _sense._ ”

_...interesting._ Several useful details in that. First, it seemed that there was a class of mages on this planet that could perform something like a mind trick. Second, he could at least infer that mages had only one ability, or perhaps cluster of abilities. Previous references to Unthreaded mages supported that claim as well. And third, Seelia and the Youngest seemed to be the same person, which meant that whatever drama there was between her and Arin, it had nothing to do with a romantic rival. Possibly something to do with his abilities, or her rank…

He climbed into the cockpit and attempted to activate the low-level functions--scanners, short-range comm--to see if they worked at all. “I am neither,” he said.

“You’re...then what are you?” Arin asked. “I’ve never heard of a thread that can do everything we’ve seen you do.”

“I am a Sith.” Nothing from the comms. Basic environment scanners were working, and the targeting system was intact as well. _Helpful._ He pried off a panel to access the hardware.

“I...I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is.”

“You wouldn’t.” Yes, he could probably make this work. The damage was extensive, but not insurmountable. It would take time, and likely some trial and error; he wouldn’t be able to finish before he left to find Luke, but he would be able to call for his extraction in due time.

_It might be easier to repair the comm unit back in the village. Fewer trips back and forth, fewer potential complications, fewer delays._

That decided, Vader started unhooking wires and connections, pulling the entire unit out of the fighter. It would have been faster to use his lightsaber and cut it out, but that risked damaging other cockpit systems, some of which were vital. Better to leave things as intact as possible, in case another of his officers failed him and he needed an alternate way off the planet.

He could _hear_ the boy fidgeting outside. It was distracting, especially while he was in the midst of such delicate work. Vader paused, with the comm unit half out in his lap. _Would it_ really _cause me that many problems to kill him right now?_

_The Youngest values him, and you still need her._

_Right._ He could always kill him later, after all. But that fidgeting had to stop. “ _What?_ ”

“Um. Can I help at all?” Arin said. “I want to know how your box works.”

“No,” Vader said, returning to his work the comm unit. “It would be beyond you, anyway.”

“Just because there’s no other metal-mage Unthreaded here--I’m untrained, not _stupid._ ”

“You’re also from a technologically backward planet,” he said. _Almost done, just a few more wires._ “You lack the necessary background knowledge, and I have neither the time nor the inclination to fill in those gaps.”

Arin blew out an aggrieved sigh. “You know, you’re not a very nice person.”

“No. I’m not.” He detached the last few wires and climbed out of the fighter. _And vertigo. Damn it._

“Are you all right?”

Vader glowered at him. “I have what I need from here. We can head back to your village now.”

Arin opened his mouth to debate the issue, but wisely thought better of it and nodded. “All right. Let me know if you--”

“I won’t.”

The boy sighed, but led the way back to the village without further comment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that there is some body horror in this chapter.

The third day finally arrived. The episodes of vertigo, while still occurring, were much less frequent and severe, except immediately after sessions. The comm unit Vader had pulled from his fighter wasn’t fully functional yet--though, granted, it was difficult to test without anything in range other than Luke’s X-wing. And he had decided to make contact in person, if at all possible, rather than attempting to reach out to the boy that way. Still, he could take it with him and continue working on it as they traveled.

In any case, he had reached the official end of his bargain with the Eldest, and was now free to leave and hunt down Luke.

Seelia came for him in the morning, as she had all of the previous days, just as displeased with the general situation.

“Eldest wants to see you after your session, before we leave,” she said.

“Fine.” He hadn’t planned on it, but it shouldn’t take long. Once again, he tried to monitor her progress and, once again, gained very little useful information from it.

 _I should have let Arin do something,_ he thought. More data, even from a different thread, as they called it, would help him figure out how to replicate their abilities that much faster.

Seelia wrapped things up quickly this time, and he waited a few seconds to minimize the chances of an episode of vertigo before rising. “After you, Youngest,” he said.

She stood up and brushed off her pants, leading him on through the structure without comment.

As he followed her, he flipped through her surface thoughts again--they were all about the upcoming journey, and how deeply unhappy she was about it. Not her own departure so much; that merely confused her. Apparently, healers of her rank did not leave Heartwood. Ever.

_Interesting. I wonder what game the Eldest is playing here._

More upsetting to her, though, was the fact that Arin was being, as she viewed it, sent away. This seemed to be common for Unthreaded mages, if only so they could be properly trained, but she was under the impression that very few, if any, ever returned.

_She doesn’t want to lose him. And the Eldest seems unconcerned that she will stay away, no matter how attached she is to the boy._

He pulled back from her mind and considered that for a moment. It wasn’t that it was particularly important to him, or even particularly _interesting,_ save that the dynamic between the two children might interfere with his plans, and his search for his son.

 _If they cause problems, I can rid myself of them easily enough,_ he reminded himself. _But, isolated as their society seems to be, they still know more about this planet than I do. Their knowledge and experience may yet prove useful._

They arrived in the Eldest’s hall. Unlike his previous visit, the apparent ruler of the Sixth City was not alone. There was another woman--this one perhaps his own age--standing behind and slightly to the right of the Eldest, and a man kneeling at their feet. Gathered around the man in a loose semi-circle were half a dozen others of various ages, both men and women. Arin was standing off to one side, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

_Then again, he nearly always does. Awkward child. I do not look forward to tolerating him for however long it takes to find Luke._

The Eldest looked up to see Vader and the Youngest come in, and gave a brief nod before turning back to the man in front of her. “So. Do you contest the charges against you?”

The man drew in a shaky breath. “Eldest, I don’t--it’s not that--”

“A simple question,” the woman standing behind the Eldest cut in, “requires a simple answer.”

He shivered and dropped his eyes. “No. I do not contest them. But my reasons--”

“You had several viable, _legal_ options open to you,” the Eldest interrupted, arching one eyebrow. “You have friends and kin to whom you could have turned for help, or you could have come to myself, or our Middle--” here, she indicated the woman at her side. “You chose instead to ignore all of those avenues, and take matters into your own hands. Do you deny this?”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Answer,” the Middle said.

“No,” he said faintly. “No, Eldest, I do not.”

“Then here is where we stand,” the Eldest said. “You do not deny the charges, and we have heard the evidence against you. Granddaughter, do you agree with my assessment?”

The Middle inclined her head. “Yes, Eldest.”

“So it is spoken and witnessed.”

The half-dozen people gathered around the condemned man murmured an echo of the sentiment, as did Seelia and Arin.

 _So, the Eldest wanted me to witness this trial,_ Vader thought. _Why?_

The Eldest stretched out one hand, and the man kneeling at her feet screamed.

Vader leaned forward a little, stretching out with all his senses to--

_Ah. I was right._

The flesh was peeling off the condemned man’s hand, skin separating from muscle and muscle from bone.

And he _still_ couldn’t figure out how she was doing it. Annoying.

The Eldest stopped when she reached his wrist, flesh hanging down from it in strips, blood dripping onto the floor. She nodded at one of the witnesses who had come with him, who helped him up. “Bandages only for three days, then repair it properly, unless there are unnecessary complications.”

“Yes, Eldest.”

The group filed out of the hall by a different door. Vader watched them go, with a brief glance over their surface thoughts--mostly subdued acceptance of the situation, nothing alarming.

 _I think I know why the Eldest wanted me here, though._ She was subtler than he was--though, he had to admit, there were few who weren’t--but she was indicating to him the price of violating their customs.

“So,” the Eldest said, turning to him and Seelia and beckoning them forward. Seelia obeyed, and Vader followed half a pace behind her. Arin pushed himself off the wall and joined them as well. “The three of you leave us today. Unless, Vader, you have decided to remain?”

“No,” he said.

She nodded. “I expected as much. We will protect your metal box while you’re gone, of course. And we would appreciate it if you returned our Youngest intact, before too long.”

Seelia stiffened at his side, and started to speak, but the Middle shot her a warning look and she subsided.

_And no mention of Arin. Seelia’s fears are not groundless._

“I make no guarantees,” Vader said shortly. “My son must be my priority.”

“Of course,” the Eldest said, with a smile. “So, our business then is concluded. And we wish you luck.”

Vader bowed slightly. “My...thanks, for your hospitality and aid.” It galled him a little to say it out loud, but they _had_ aided him, not insignificantly, and they had agreed to guard his fighter. Just in case.

_And, so long as they still view me at worst as a neutral party, there will be fewer complications when my Destroyer shows up and we start taking captives._

“We heal any who come to us in need,” the Middle said. “No matter their origins.”

“And, Arin,” the Eldest started, then continued on in their private language.

Seelia looked down, her hair slipping forward a little to conceal her face, but Vader could sense the frustration rolling off of her like stormclouds.

“Thank you, Eldest,” Arin said woodenly, not quite looking over at Seelia.

 _They...are not as subtle as they think they are, I think,_ Vader thought, before dragging his attention away from their unimportant little drama.

“Be wary in Feredar,” the Middle cautioned. “Should things go badly, we cannot break custom so far as to go to war for you.”

“I would not expect it,” Seelia said. “I will return...I will return soon, Mother. I know my duty.”

The Middle smiled. “I know you do.”

“Go, then,” the Eldest said. “And luck to you all.”

_May the Force be with you._

The words sprung to Vader’s mind, but he caught them before they slipped out.

 _That was another life,_ he reminded himself, as he, Arin, and Seelia made their way out of the hall towards the ladder.

_But not quite out of reach._

He ignored that needling voice, pushing that possibility as far away as he could. _It holds no meaning for me anymore. I am who I am, and Luke will join me soon. Then everything will be as it should be._

The forest swallowed those thoughts with the same eerie calm it used to provoke them. Vader fell into step behind Arin and Seelia and forced himself to focus on the future instead.

_I am coming, Luke. Be ready for me. I am coming._


	6. Chapter 6

They followed the river south, out of the forest and into a wide scrub plain. Vader paid little attention to the changing environment. He did keep an eye out for other people, friendly or otherwise; the Eldest and the Middle and their warnings were fresh in his mind. But, through days of travel, they encountered no one.

And, more importantly, he could feel Luke getting closer and closer, the further south they went. Not directly, exactly; Luke was east of him as well as south, but heading along a course that would intersect with theirs before too long. Possibly he was even heading for the river; if that were so, all Vader had to do was continue following it down, and their encounter was inevitable. Still, he was _so close_ now, and it burned him, every moment. It took all of his restraint not to push forward faster, get to the boy that much sooner, and then…

And then...

Well, at least part of what held him back was that he wasn’t entirely certain _what_ would happen then. The comm unit wasn’t fixed, and he wasn’t spending nearly as much time on it as he should be. His dreams were still unsettling, there was still that needling _voice_ in the back of his head, questioning all his decisions, and Arin and Seelia were--

Arin and Seelia barely paid any attention to him. They were, apart from a few sessions Seelia insisted on giving him and Arin occasionally observing him practice with his lightsaber, completely wrapped up in one another. Which meant they weren’t annoying him. That was all.

Vader spent most of his time, when they weren’t actively moving, continuing to refine his revised lightsaber technique. It was necessary, and it cleared his head. Arin did usually watch, unless he was sleeping, but asked no more technical questions that would have been thoroughly beyond his comprehension, so Vader allowed it. And, after his practice sessions, it was at least marginally easier to think through his options.

_Options? I don’t have_ options. _There is a clear course of action here. I know who I am. I know what I am doing. I know exactly what I need to do. I need to get my comm unit fixed, and call for the extraction as soon as I’ve secured Luke, and made sure he won’t run away from me again. I must then get him off this planet, and bring him to my master._

And yet, every time he took the comm out to work on it, he found something else to do. Something else drew his focus, every time.

_It’s just the planet. When I get him out of here, when we finally leave this rock behind, everything will make sense again._

Then, finally, the third day, everything clicked into place. They weren’t just close anymore, they were in striking distance. He was mere _hours_ away from Luke now. If they pushed on through the night, he would meet his son before dawn.

“It’s almost dark, Vader,” Seelia said. “Time to stop.”

“No,” he said. “Luke is close. I am not stopping until I find him.”

“That is a _terrible_ plan,” she said. “You’ll get hurt--or worse, _arrested._ ”

Vader rolled his eyes.

“She’s not wrong,” Arin said quietly. “Do you know what happens to mages in Feredar, when they get caught?”

That caught his attention. _If something has happened to Luke…No. He’s still alive. He’s not in any serious danger. I would know._

_Are you sure?_

He was. But still…

“What?”

“They _disappear,_ ” Seelia said. “We don’t--that’s why I was so surprised Great-Grandmother was sending me here. Or even Arin.” She reached protectively for his hand. Vader ignored the gesture. “I thought she’d send him west, o-or north, not…”

“There are rumors, about what happens to them when they're taken,” Arin said, threading his fingers with Seelia’s and clinging tight to her hand. “They don’t get _killed,_ they get...used.”

Something tightened at the base of his spine. “Used.”

“There’s history there, they think they have reason for it, but Feredar doesn’t--whatever the reasons, they don’t consider mages to be fully human,” Seelia said. “So we don’t know exactly what happens, but we know it’s bad. And you’re...sort of obvious, and we’re responsible for you. That’s at least part of why the Eldest didn’t want you to go alone. But--”

Vader had heard enough. He turned on his heel and pushed on down the path.

“No, wait--” Arin called after him. He felt something--the boy's power, most likely--catch hold of one of his arms, holding him back.

He snarled and spun back. He yanked the two of them up into the air, and the grip on his arm eased as Arin lost his concentration. He stopped just short of strangling them. “If you think I am going to leave _my son_ at that kind of risk any longer--” He took a breath. “Whether I like it or not, I owe you a great deal, so I will give you one warning. _One._ You can follow me if you want. I don’t give a damn about that. But if you attempt to stop me again, I _will_ kill you.”

Without waiting for a response, he dropped them, then turned again and stalked off downriver. Drawing on his rage to sustain him, he barely felt the time passing. He noted when Arin and Seelia, about ten minutes after he started, came after him. But they didn’t interfere, so he ignored them.

_They don’t matter. Nothing else--_ no one else _\--matters._

_No one?_

He ignored that thought, and picked up his pace.

And, just before dawn, he found his son at last.

Luke was waiting, empty-handed and alone, at the end of the path. His surprise at seeing Vader--at seeing his _face_ \--however, was clear enough, despite the halfway decent walls he had put up around his thoughts this time. He took a breath, and calmed himself. He said nothing, waiting as Vader approached.

There was a thin, yellowish metal band around his throat.

Vader knew _exactly_ what it meant.

The universe around him stilled for a moment, and, before he even knew what was happening, his lightsaber was active in his hands, and he _lunged._


	7. Chapter 7

_Two Weeks Earlier_

 

Luke came to all at once, still strapped into the cockpit of his X-wing.

The bad news was, he had absolutely no idea where he was. He could tell he was on a planet, since he could see a sky outside his cockpit rather than deep space, but that wasn’t much to go on. Especially since, if he remembered the star charts for where he should have been right, there shouldn’t _be_ a planet here.

Also, he _hurt_. He felt like one giant bruise all over. Worst was his left shoulder. It had gotten wrenched badly, maybe even dislocated.

The _good_ news was, he was still alive to feel all that. Alive was always a good thing.

“Artoo?” he tried. “You still with me?”

The droid chirped an affirmative from his socket, and Luke relaxed a little. _Even better._ “See if you can get any of the scanners working, okay? Maybe figure out where we are.”

Artoo beeped again, and Luke closed his eyes and sat back, resisting the urge to push open the cockpit canopy and take a look around directly. Better to wait, if at all possible, until he knew for sure the air was breathable.

And in the meantime…

Luke hesitated for a few seconds. Trying to figure out if Vader had crashed anywhere close to him might send up all kinds of red flags. It might even draw him in, which would not be a good thing.

Of course, since Luke was still pretty sure this planet wasn’t supposed to be here--and Artoo would probably confirm that any minute now--he and Vader might well be stranded here. Together. Depending on how badly their respective fighters were damaged, and what the level of tech here was, they might have to actually _cooperate_ with each other in order to get offplanet. And if that was true, then maybe...

He flexed his artificial hand, a little surprised by the turn his thoughts had taken there. True, Vader wanted him alive--and alive was always a good thing--otherwise he wouldn’t be here. Which meant they might have a chance to just...talk. And, true, Vader had--his _father_ had been a good man. Once.

_Could I really do it? Bring him back? If I have an opening, if we can just...if I can just talk to him, just for a while...maybe I can._

On the other hand, it at least as possible that, given the same opening and potential for a temporary alliance, Vader could drag Luke down.

_You’re playing with fire here,_ a voice in the back of his head told him. Almost like the way Ben used to talk to him, but not exactly the same; he hadn’t heard from Ben since Dagobah, anyway. It was probably just his own native common sense. And it wasn’t wrong.

_Still,_ he thought. _I have to try. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll...something. But first, I_ have _to try._

His mind made up, he focused all his senses on trying to find some trace of Vader.

It wasn’t hard. Whatever might happen between them in the long run, their destinies were intertwined. That made it easy for Luke to find his father in the Force.

_And for him to find me._

He let the brief moment of doubt pass through him, and focused on Vader instead.

On the planet, he could tell that right away, but not close. Luke was pretty sure the two of them were on the same continent, but that was about it. Vader didn’t react to the probe; at least not in a way Luke could detect. Either his attention was fully occupied with something else, or he had lost consciousness in the crash.

_I think option two is more likely,_ Luke thought, withdrawing back into himself. _But I guess I’ll find out soon._

Artoo beeped at him, and Luke checked the readout--none of the long-range scanners were operational, and the little droid was still running diagnostics on the X-wing itself, so there wasn’t much. But he had atmospheric readings, at least, and they showed one that was practically ideal for humans.

_Great!_ Careful of his injured shoulder, Luke unstrapped himself from the crash webbing and shoved the cockpit open. As the scans had promised, the air was clean and fresh, with a faint, crisp overtone that he had learned to associate with cold seasons on wet planets. To match the scent in the air, the sky was a dull, monochrome grey and all the vegetation he could see was brown or dormant. It was cold, but he had fortunately decided to bring his cold-weather gear along with him, despite being headed for Tatooine where it would be completely useless.

As far as he could see, though, there were no people around, no signs of any kind of civilization. Other than his X-wing and the blackened trail it had left on the ground, leading to the crash site. If the planet was inhabited at all, it would take him time to find anyone.

_Better get started, then._

He climbed out of the cockpit and jumped down to the ground, using the Force to soften his landing just a little bit, before making a quick visual inspection of his X-wing.

_No blaster marks--I was right; he didn’t shoot me down._ Which made sense, if Vader wanted him alive. Most likely, the planet that wasn’t supposed to be here had caused the crash.

The damage, at least externally, didn’t look as bad as it could have been. Unless there was something major inside that Luke couldn’t see, he and Artoo could probably get it repaired enough for at least a quick hop to a more populated system by themselves. If this planet was industrialized enough to have something he could use for replacement parts, that would be even better. Granted, everything he’d seen so far made that unlikely, but he could hope.

_Okay. First things first._ He braced himself against the side of the fighter, gripped his left wrist tight with his right, and shoved his shoulder back into place.

“Kriffing-- _ow!_ ”

Artoo, still in his socket, let out a concerned and halfway reproachful string of beeps.

“I’m fine,” Luke said, dragging out his gear and grabbing the first thing that might work as a sling--his old poncho, one of the few things he’d carried with him since leaving home. He tested the joint carefully. It still hurt like hell, but it seemed to be back in place. As soon as he found people, he’d get an actual medic to look at it, to be safe, but he was probably fine. “I didn’t want to leave it hanging out like that.”

The droid let out a noise that could only be described as a long-suffering sigh.

Luke smiled at the sound. “Listen, you stay with the ship--finish your diagnostics, and do what you can to get it flying again, all right?”

Artoo beeped anxiously at him.

“I’m gonna go see if I can find some people,” he said. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

The droid gave a mournful whistle, but didn’t try to pop out of his socket or otherwise stop him.

Luke checked to make sure his blaster was charged and ready--not that he planned on shooting anyone unless he had no other choice, but he didn’t want to go unarmed and he hadn’t had a chance to build a new lightsaber yet--and that he had at least a day’s worth of emergency rations, just in case. He then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

After a few seconds, he turned vaguely east, and started walking.

For a long time, not much changed, not even the landscape. There were subtle differences; slightly different trees and grasses, a couple interesting rock formations, but overall, the same type of environment. The cloud cover remained, threatening rain without actually delivering it. It got subtly brighter around him, even through the clouds. It must have been morning on this part of the planet when he went down.

After about two hours, though, he could hear rushing water ahead.

_Okay. What do I know about non-industrialized worlds? Not much, but I know that settlements usually spring up near rivers._ Given that, following the river would be a good way to find people. Plus, fresh water was, generally speaking, the first emergency supply to run out and the last one you wanted to lose. And he had purifier tablets that could take care of any toxins or local microbes.

He picked up his pace a little--having an actual destination, even an intermediate one, gave him renewed energy and purpose.

It took him the better part of a third hour to break through the treeline and actually reach the river. It was wide, and looked deep, even at what must have been low tide--the banks went down several meters, but there were high-tide marks about halfway up. It was probably a major waterway for this region. Finding people along it was becoming likelier by the second.

And, sure enough, when he turned to the south, he saw what looked like a faint outline of a city on the horizon. _It’ll take me a while to get there, but--people!_

Luke grinned to himself, and studied the bank--it was steep, and he was down one arm. Climbing down would probably just get him hurt worse, and he had no idea how often people came down this stretch of river. If he fell badly, he might end up in serious trouble.

_Better not risk it,_ he decided. Instead, he backed up a couple paces, took a running start, and leaped down. He used the Force to slow his descent, landing safely in freezing cold, ankle-deep water.

He bent down to fill his canteen, dropping a purifier into it and considering the best way back up the bank.

All at once, all his senses screamed _danger_ and he dove to one side.

A projectile whizzed through the air where he’d been standing a split second before, landing with a _thunk_ in the steep, solid bank behind him.

_What the--_

He turned, moving to the side another half-step, to see who was shooting at him.

His attacker was human, male, wearing some kind of leather armor, the kind Luke had only ever seen before in history books and museums. He was armed with an equally-archaic crossbow, from which he was firing a second bolt.

Luke held up his good arm in surrender as he dodged the bolt. “Please, stop shooting! My name is Luke Skywalker. I crashed a few kilometers to the west. I don’t want any trouble, I just--”

A third crossbow bolt was his only answer.

_Blast it, I don’t want to shoot back! A blaster bolt will go through that leather like butter._ Not to mention shooting the first person he met didn’t exactly seem a very Jedi-like way of making first contact with an unknown, isolated society. Especially since there was a reasonably good chance that he actually _had_ violated some local law or custom, so the stranger was perfectly justified, in his own head, for shooting. Better to try and talk him down, and not kill anyone if he didn't have to.

Still, that didn’t mean he was about to let _himself_ get shot. Luke held up a hand to stop the fourth crossbow bolt--and any others that might follow--in midair. “I’m sorry for trespassing, or for whatever else I might have done to offend you. I really don’t want any trouble. Like I said, I crashed a little ways west of here, and I was looking for--”

He was focused enough on the crossbow bolts and the leather-armored man in front of him that he didn’t notice the second man creeping behind him until the drugged dart had already hit him.

_I’ve got a bad feeling about this…_

He and the crossbow bolt dropped at almost the exact same time, splashing in the shallow edge of the river in stereo, and then the drugs kicked in and Luke lost consciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

Luke spent the next two or three days floating in a drugged haze. He did his best to use toxin-expelling Force techniques, but his captors usually caught on before he was clear-headed enough to actually make a plan and escape. And, even if they hadn’t, he was in the back of a covered wooden vehicle of some kind, bound hand and foot--hurting his shoulder even more, probably--and they’d taken his blaster and most of his supplies. Escape would not be easy; and even if he pulled it off, getting back to Artoo and his X-wing safely would be next to impossible.

In his lucid moments, he did hear snatches of conversation between the two of them, enough to give him at least a vague idea of what was going on. They kept referencing a place called Feredar, and something called an air-mage-- _I’m pretty sure they mean me. Which, given that they’re keeping me drugged, is probably not a good thing._

At one point, on the second day, it occurred to him that he really, _really_ hoped this wasn’t what had happened to Vader. There would probably be a _lot_ of unnecessary dead bodies--including potentially innocent collateral damage--if it had.

_That’s if one of their darts could even get through his armor. Still, just them_ trying _would probably--I’ll deal with that later,_ he thought, and then his captors drugged him again.

The next time he was able to think straight, he was pretty sure they were close to Feredar. He could hear--and sense--a faint hum of sentient activity, close by.

And, sure enough, the cart slowed to a stop, and he heard one of the men climb down, and a relatively clear conversation, one he could overhear in full.

“What’ve you got?” a new voice asked; male, bored, brusque; some kind of bureaucrat or guard, maybe.

“Air-mage,” his captor said.

“Proof?”

“Kedrell and me, we saw him. He flew, and he caught a crossbow bolt.”

_Okay. By flying they probably mean when I jumped down to the river. I should have been more careful, made sure there was no one around to see. Or I should have just risked climbing. Then they wouldn’t have shot at me, and I wouldn’t be in this mess._ There wasn’t anything he could do to change that now, but he’d need to keep that in mind for after he escaped.

“Ah.” A brief pause, probably while the guard/bureaucrat was writing that down. “Any others?”

“Nah, he was alone. Had some weird stuff with him, though.”

“We don’t catalogue personal effects, you know that,” he said, and Luke could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Condition?”

“Safe drugged,” his captor replied. “He burns through ‘em quick, though, so I hope you have a collar on hand.”

“I don’t tell you your business, Miran,” the guard/bureaucrat snapped. “Don’t presume to tell me mine.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Miran said, with a layer of amused contempt.

“Let’s have a look, then.”

“Right.”

Footsteps approached from outside the cart and Luke did his best to feign unconsciousness. He might-- _might_ \--have an opportunity here, as long as they didn’t catch on that he was sobering up.

He felt sunlight on his face as the lid on top of the cart was heaved off.

“Hm.” That was the guard/bureaucrat again. “Get him on his feet.”

Rough hands grabbed the front of Luke’s tunic, and he stayed limp. _Wait for the right moment. I’m still halfway drugged. I’m not sure I can mind trick all three of them at once right now, and that guard might have friends watching, too._

Miran shook him. “Wake _up_. Sorry, Vodan, of all the times for him to stay drugged…”

Luke stirred a little, opening his eyes a crack.

It was nearing sunset. The cart had been parked outside a metal gate in a stone wall. Vodan was wearing leather armor, similar to Miran’s, with an additional layer of interlocking ring mail over it. There was an insignia pinned to one shoulder.

_Guard, more likely than bureaucrat. And I guess the other two aren’t officially anything. Mercs or bounty hunters of some kind, probably._

Vodan reached out and tilted Luke’s face up; gingerly, as if he was touching something vile. “Seems to be in reasonably good condition, aside from the sedative. Was the shoulder injury your work?”

“Nah,” Miran said. “He had it in a sling when we spotted him.”

“I see.” Vodan dropped his hand and wrote something down on a packet of flimsi he was carrying. He tore off the page, and passed it to Miran’s partner-- _Kedrell, that’s what he said his name was._ “All right, I’ll take charge of this one from here. You’ll need to go to the Southgate customs house for your payment this time.”

“Southgate?” Kedrell said. “Why’d they move?”

“Security, probably,” Vodan said. “They don’t tell me these things. Watch him while I get a collar.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Miran said, shifting his grip on Luke’s tunic.

_Now. I should move now._

But he hesitated, the words to try and compel Miran on the tip of his tongue, and it took him a second to figure out why.

_Vodan said ‘this time.’ They’ve done this before. How many times? How many people are in that city in chains?_

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. _I can’t. I_ can’t _just leave those people there. What kind of Jedi would I be if I didn’t help them?_

On the other hand, Vader was--his father was still somewhere on this planet, and he had to find him as soon as he could. Whatever else might pass between them once he did. And he still had the Rebellion to get back to, and the others were waiting for him on Tatooine, so they could rescue Han...

_Slavery is still legal on Tatooine, too. You can’t save everyone, you know that. There is only one of you. You have to look at the larger picture._

That common-sense voice in the back of his head again. And, again, it wasn’t wrong.

But still, he hesitated. _I’m still unarmed, I’m still half-drugged, and there may be more than three of them,_ he thought. _If I try now and fail, I won’t be able to help_ anyone. _Not the people here, not my father, not Han...no one._

Common sense didn’t really have an answer for that.

Vodan was back, carrying a narrow, flexible piece of hammered metal. Luke closed his eyes again and didn’t resist as the guard snapped the collar around his neck.

_I really hope I’m doing the right thing here._

No one--not Ben, not common sense, not anyone--had an answer for him.


	9. Chapter 9

Vodan took Luke in through the gate, past a second guard on watch, and, from there, down into an underground warren of tunnels.

Luke did his best to keep track of the junctions as they went, hoping it would make his escape easier when the time finally came. Otherwise, he stayed as docile as he could, following behind Vodan and not speaking or making any trouble.

The metal collar pressed uncomfortably against his throat, like a too-tight neckline, but it didn’t seem to be interfering with his ability to use the Force. Or, at least, not with anything passive. He could still sense Vodan’s thoughts and groups of people moving around in the surface streets, at least vaguely. He didn’t want to risk trying to move anything, or anything else obvious, but he was pretty sure that would work, too. He’d test it once he was alone.

But if that was the case, given that the collar was supposed to be an alternative to keeping him drugged, that meant that whatever it was an air-mage did was completely separate from his ability to use the Force. And that meant that the guards wouldn’t be prepared for the type of resistance he could offer.

_It’s not much, but it’s a start._

He and Vodan stopped at a second gate, this one solid wood rather than metal. Vodan exchanged passwords with the guard behind it, then left Luke there.

The new guard surveyed him with the same undercurrent of distaste that had poisoned all of Vodan’s thoughts. “Follow,” he said.

Luke nodded, and winced a little. The edges of the collar weren’t sharp, exactly, but they dug in enough that he felt it.

The new guard turned and walked halfway down the hallway. He opened another solid wooden door, and pointed. “Inside.”

He didn’t bother nodding this time, just did as he was told.

The cell was square, and small; about two meters on each side. It was completely empty, except for a bucket in one corner.

“Behave,” the guard said, then slammed the door behind him.

It was very dark in the cell, with the door shut. A little bit of dim, flickering light came through a crack at the bottom, but there was no window, and no light inside for him to use. It made the room feel even smaller, pressing in on him as tight as the collar around his throat.

Luke took a breath, held it for a second, then let it out slowly, willing that faint burst of claustrophobia to go with it.

He felt his way to one of the walls and sat down. _All right. Let’s try moving the bucket as a first step._ And, as he’d guessed earlier, the collar didn’t interfere when he reached out and nudged it an inch to the side. He relaxed a little. It was amazing how much such a small achievement improved his outlook, in spite of the pretty awful situation he’d landed in.

The drug had almost completely worn off, which helped, too. Except that it had been dulling the throbbing in his shoulder, as a probably-unintended side effect. Now that pain was back in full force.

_I could try a healing trance,_ he thought. But he wasn’t sure he’d be able to reliably come out of it, and he didn’t know how the guards might react when they came back if he wouldn’t respond. Especially since he didn’t know what they might want to do with him, either, which made it harder to plan things out.

_Be patient,_ that common-sense voice advised. _Concentrate on the moment. You can’t do anything about tomorrow until tomorrow comes._

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Not a healing trance, but a lighter mediation. First, he scanned again for Vader--still far away; maybe farther than before. Most likely not in a collar, which was probably best for everyone. There was no change in his father’s mental state since the last time, and still no response. Luke wasn’t quite sure what that might mean, but there wasn’t much of anything he could do about it from here.

He withdrew to a closer range, trying to get a feel for who else was down here with him. He counted four guards--he guessed they were guards, anyway, based on that oil-slick layer of disdain on their thoughts--and a dozen other prisoners, in varying stages of weariness and despair.

Two of the prisoners’ minds, though, stuck out to him. Not in that they responded to his light touch, exactly, but they were…bright. Shining.

_I think they’re--they’re like me. Strong in the Force--they have Jedi potential!_

His eyes snapped open, and he felt his heartbeat pick up a little in excitement. That confirmed, for one thing, that whatever the collars marked out or suppressed and the ability to use the Force were not connected. And if he could get those two out, maybe bring them back to Dagobah with him--

_The Jedi can rebuild. We can rebuild!_

Except--wait. No, that wouldn't work. He’d come here in an X-wing--one that was damaged from the crash, and at least two or three days away on foot--assuming the other prisoners were able to travel as fast as he had coming in.

He slumped a little, some of the excitement fading. _I’ll have to come back for them. But first, I have to get them out of_ here.

Luke still wasn’t sure of the best way to do that. He needed to know more before he could make any kind of move to free _himself,_ let alone two other people.

_And I’d be leaving the rest of them behind…_

He shook his head, and closed his eyes again. His common sense earlier had been right; there was only one of him, and he couldn’t save everyone. But he had to do what he could.

He slipped back into a light meditative state, so he could both rest and keep a mental eye on what was going on around him, and settled in to wait for whatever the morning might bring.


	10. Chapter 10

Luke was hauled out of his cell again early the next morning. Based on the vague patterns of thought and movement he could sense in the city’s population above, it was probably just before dawn. There had been a shift change about an hour earlier, and the guard who came for him was, as a result, not one of the ones he’d seen before. This one didn’t bother to speak, just pointed--or shoved--where he wanted Luke to go.

That ‘where’ turned out to be down a different set of winding tunnels to a surface exit maybe half a kilometer from the cells. There were four wooden carts waiting there, similar in design to the one Luke had been brought to the city in, but larger. The guard shoved him at the third in line, which--

_They’re in there,_ he thought, with a faint, half-guilty surge of relief. The two minds he’d sensed last night, the ones with Jedi potential; that would make it easier to figure out how to get them out.

But it would also make it easier to leave the other prisoners behind, if he didn’t spend any time with them.

_I can’t save everyone,_ he reminded himself. _So I’ll do what I can._

He took a deep breath and climbed into the cart without waiting for further prodding from the guard, who sealed it shut behind him.

Luke smiled briefly at his two companions before sitting on the floor next to the door. Both were young men; their collars were the same basic design as his, with subtle differences that probably carried meaning Luke didn’t know how to read.

The closer of the two was around Luke's age, or maybe a little older; dark like Lando with short hair and a beard. There was something shadowed behind his eyes, something rooted in more than just the prison and the collars. He’d been here a while; Luke was pretty sure of that, though he couldn’t have guessed exactly how long. There was a sort of resignation to him--not quite despair, not quite giving up, but accepting his situation and no longer expecting to find a way out. He didn’t return Luke’s smile, but he nodded a little, and relaxed just a hair.

The younger of the two was--

_He’s just a kid,_ Luke realized. _He’s younger than I was when I left home._

Not by much, to be fair; the kid was probably sixteen or seventeen. He seemed more optimistic than the other, but also more drained. There was an unhealthy greyish undertone to his skin--not quite as dark as his friend's, more bronze--and his hair hung limp around his face. His cheekbones stood out prominently, and his eyes were a little too deep in their sockets. He was missing his right leg from just below the knee. It had been replaced by a crude, uncomfortable-looking wooden prosthetic.

Luke flexed his own prosthetic hand, more keenly aware of it than he had been in a while.

The kid, despite everything, did return Luke’s smile, and upgraded it to an actual greeting. “Hello. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” He had a faint accent, that stood out from the guards'--lilting, with a slight emphasis on the sibilants. _Not from the city, I guess._

“Uh, no,” he said. “I’m new, I guess.”

He nodded. “I thought I heard them bringing someone in last night, but I was half-asleep. I’m Isshiri, and this is Mel.”

“I’m Luke Skywalker,” he said. “It’s--” He stopped himself, realizing that ‘it’s nice to meet you’ might not really apply, under the circumstances.

Isshiri’s smile widened a little. “I get what you mean.” A faint drizzle started, and he shivered and shifted to his left a little. “So you know, we’re usually on gate duty. Since you’re with us, that probably means you are, too.”

“Destroyin’ contraband,” Mel added. Different accent; so also probably not local, or from the same area as Isshiri. _How far do these people_ go _for their captives?_ “There’s worse places for them to put us. We haven’t worked with an air-mage before, though.”

So the collar probably gave some clue as to what he was supposed to be. Going off that guess, he asked, “What about you two?”

“I’m water, he’s fire,” Mel said.

One of the guards outside banged on the cart, right next to Luke’s head. “No talking.”

Isshiri rolled his eyes. It looked like he was about to say something, but Mel put a hand on his. The kid nodded, and closed his eyes, leaning back against the side of the cart as it creaked to life.

It took them about a half hour to reach the gate--not the one Luke had come in by. This one was larger; maybe the main gate into the city. Or one of them, anyway. Based on the angle of the cloudy sunrise, they were on the west side of the city.

The cart rolled to a stop, and one of the guards pulled it open. “Out,” he said, grabbing Luke’s arm and yanking for good measure.

He bit back a yelp--that was the one with the injured shoulder--and squelched down into the mud. The guard poked at his collar and, after a second, it felt a little less constricting.

_Probably turning off whatever suppresses what I’m supposed to be able to do._ Maybe, once they got out of here and he figured out how to get the collar off, he could study it to find out how it worked. That would make it easier to get the others out. Even if he couldn’t do it himself, he could at least pass the information along to the people here, and maybe they could. It was a start, anyway.

Mel came down next, and turned to help Isshiri balance when he landed. The guards adjusted their collars, as well, then started the three of them on the first load of material headed into the city.

Luke had to more or less fumble to figure out what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t _actually_ an air-mage, and didn’t really know what an air-mage _did,_ though he could make some educated guesses based on what Mel and Isshiri were doing with water and fire. It also helped that he could read the guards’ minds. Mostly, they wanted him sorting through things--apparently, they thought he could detect changes in the air currents, subtle variations in sound and scent and opacity, or in the weight of solid objects. He couldn’t _actually_ do that, of course, but it wasn’t that hard to use the Force to seek out deception. His workaround was enough to satisfy the guards, at least.

Once he identified something suspicious, the guards would examine it and either confiscate it or turn it over to Mel or Isshiri for destruction. Luke couldn’t quite sense what they did, but he could see it clearly enough. Mel would pull water from the air, coalesce it around his hands and either freeze or soak what he was given to the point where it was no longer useful. Isshiri would conjure up sparks, and burn whatever contraband he was assigned.

But each time, it took Isshiri a fraction of a second longer to summon up enough fire to do his job. Each time, it took a little more energy. Each time, after, he was just a little more drained.

_No wonder he’s doing so badly,_ Luke thought. Isshiri got maybe twice as much to destroy as Mel did, and the weather wasn’t exactly helping him along.

Luke had been paying close attention, so he’d noticed the problems the kid was having first, but after a couple hours, the guards caught on.

“Pick up the pace,” one of them said, nudging but not quite hitting Isshiri with a stick he was carrying.

Isshiri tensed, his mind spiking with sullen frustration. It seemed he was _just_ at that stage of exhaustion where he had lost his internal filters but not yet his defiance.

_Oh, no. This is going to end_ badly.

Luke shifted his stance as subtly as he could. He wasn’t armed, but the collar didn’t control him the way it was supposed to, and he had the Force. He could improvise.

For a second, Isshiri didn’t do anything. If it weren’t for the continued sense of imminent danger jangling along all of Luke’s nerves, he’d’ve thought the kid had gotten his reaction under control.

He flicked his fingers again, and again the sparks failed to catch.

The guard nudged him again, harder this time.

Isshiri’s fist clenched at his side. “You know, this isn’t as easy as I make it look.”

Luke took half a step towards him, only to get a sharp jab in his side from one of the other guards.

“Mind your own work, freak,” the guard said.

Isshiri’s guard lowered the stick and reached for the kid’s neck. He did _something_ \--Luke wasn’t quite sure what--with the collar and Isshiri _dropped._

“Hey!” Luke yelped, as much in reaction to the wave of raw agony spilling out of the kid as anything else. “Leave him alone!”

“I _said,_ mind your own work.” He felt a hand on his own collar, and then--

It wasn’t a shock. Not exactly. Luke had been electrocuted once or twice before, and that was worse in some ways, but it wasn’t this. This was much--much _sharper_ than electrocution; more like a fine-tipped needle had been jammed into a nerve at the base of his neck, setting off a chain reaction so that, for an instant, all he felt was pain.

The next thing he knew, he was on his knees, blinking back the aftershocks.

_Okay. So...that part works on me, too. Maybe it would work on_ anyone _wearing one of these...oh, no, Isshiri--_

Mel had managed to move over to Isshiri and was checking on him. He looked up at Luke and their eyes met for a moment; Mel looked sad, and worried, but unsurprised. He shook his head minutely, the message clear-- _don't make things worse for yourself._

Luke shut his eyes and let out a long, slow breath, willing the lingering pain to dissipate with it. He looked up at Isshiri’s guard again, reaching for his mind as he did. “Leave him alone,” he said again, softly but with as much will behind it as he could muster.

The guard resisted for half a second, then Luke felt him fall in line with the command. “Leave him alone. We don’t have time for this,” he said, looking up at the guard still hovering over Luke. “Get that one on its feet.”

Luke let the guard drag him up, and met Mel’s eyes again.

_Now_ he looked surprised, and a little wary, but there was a building undercurrent of uncertain hope there, too.

Luke smiled at him, and Mel hesitated, then nodded once before looking back to Isshiri and helping him to his feet.

The moment, whatever might come of it, had passed. Following Mel's example, Luke kept his head down and went back to his work.


	11. Chapter 11

Luke, Mel, and Isshiri were shoved back into the waiting cart just before sunset, and after the guards did the reverse of whatever it was they’d done to the collars that morning. Isshiri curled up against the wall and closed his eyes. He was asleep, or something very close to it, in seconds.

“Thanks, for stickin’ up for him earlier,” Mel said quietly, a couple minutes after the cart started moving.

_I hope the guards can’t hear us while we’re moving like this. Or at least not well._ Not that Luke really expected Mel to say anything too risky, but still. “I just wish I could’ve done more,” Luke said.

Mel smiled a little. “He doesn’t mouth off like that much anymore,” he said. “He _is_ learnin’ to pick his battles, it’s just...he ain’t all the way there yet.”

Luke smiled back. “Like I said, I wish I could’ve done more.”

Mel considered for a minute. “You did enough,” he said. “I just ain’t quite sure how.” He paused a second. “You’re not...could you do it again?”

Maybe he wasn’t as resigned as Luke had originally thought. He jerked his head at the wall. “I mean, I’m absolutely willing to speak up for him again. He seems like a good kid.”

“He is,” Mel said, then added, just a hair quieter, “They can’t hear us. Not when the cart’s movin’, not if we’re careful.”

_Okay, good. Just like I thought._ Luke nodded, and lowered his voice as well, just to be safe. “Then, yes, I can.”

“What _are_ you?” Mel said. “Mages don’t have more’n one thread, but you found the contraband like they wanted, and they don’t put an air-mage collar on a sound-mage. But what you did back there…I mean, I’m not all that sure it even _was_ sound-magic, anyway, ‘cause there’s usually a lot more...they're a lot more obvious, usually, with what they do.”

“I’m not either,” he said. “I’m a Jedi.” _Almost. Mostly. Close enough._ “I’m not...from here.”

“What d’you mean?”

“My starfighter crashed a ways west of here,” he said. “I was looking for help, and...some of what I can do I guess looks like air-magic, so I got arrested and brought here.”

“Huh,” Mel said. “What’s a starfighter?”

“I...uh.” _Oh, poodoo._ How the hell was Luke supposed to explain that to someone from a planet that didn’t even have _landspeeders?_ He hadn’t seen any kind of propulsion engines at _all_ yet, at least not on anything used for transport, and there were probably at least five or six steps between that and an X-wing. “I...It’s a...it’s a machine that...flies in space...and...shoots things?”

“In space?” Mel said, after several seconds of silence. “That’s...what?”

“Between stars, and planets. It’s…” Luke sighed. “I’m really not sure how to explain it, I’m sorry.”

“I’ll just...take your word for it,” he said. “But I guess that does help with explainin’ how you can do impossible things. If you’re from...space.”

Luke started to say, _I think you can do those things, too._

_One conversation at a time,_ that common-sense voice of his cautioned. _You have more immediate problems to solve. It would be unwise to distract from them too much. Besides, you don’t have the time or freedom to train him yet._

_Point._ “Yeah, probably,” he said instead. “It’s not really _impossible,_ just...rare. Even where I’m from.” _And it always was, even before the Empire._

Mel nodded. “But you could do it again? Subtle-like, the way you did before?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But if you need me to be subtle, I don’t think I can mind trick more than two or three of the guards. And even that might be a stretch.” True, Ben had managed with about a half-dozen stormtroopers once, so more was possible, in theory, but he'd had a lot more training and experience than Luke did.

“I can work with that,” Mel said.

“You have a plan?”

“Not all the way. I’m workin’ on it,” he admitted. He looked down at Isshiri. “But I dunno how much longer I can wait. Isshiri’s...he’s…”

_Not doing well,_ Luke filled in for him. “I get it.”

“I gotta get him out of here,” Mel finished. “Sooner, rather’n later. It’s important. He’s important. And since we're workin' on the gate, we'll be halfway there. Easier than runnin' from anywhere else, I figure. And if we can get clear of the city, if we get as far as the river, word is there’s a ship patrollin’, pickin’ up refugees. I just...couldn’t figure how to handle the guards.”

“I can help you with that,” Luke promised. _Maybe he_ is _still resigned, at least for himself. But he’s willing to risk it for Isshiri. Whatever else is going on between them, Isshiri gives him a reason to push forward. Isshiri gives him hope._ “Just say the word. And let me know exactly how subtle you need me to be.”

“Subtle enough that the guards on the wall won’t notice ‘til we’re already movin’. Make it harder for them to stop us.”

“Okay,” he said. That should be doable. “And if they start shooting at us, I can help with that, too.” He still didn’t have a weapon, but he’d caught a crossbow bolt with the Force before. And it would probably be easier to handle if he wasn’t caught by surprise, even if there were more of them.

Mel blinked. “Oh, right. Guess they thought you were an air-mage for a reason.”

“Yeah.”

He took a deep breath, and nodded. The cart was starting to slow down. “I gotta check the date, wanna be sure the ship’ll be there when we get to the river,” he said, all in a rush. “So it might be a couple days. You’ll be ready?”

Luke nodded. “I will.”

The cart rolled to a stop, and they had to shut up then. Mel nudged Isshiri gently. “‘Sshiri, time.”

The kid woke up all at once, just as the cart opened and a guard grabbed Luke’s arm, hauling him out shoving him down the path back to his cell.


	12. Chapter 12

Five more days passed before Luke got Mel’s signal.

Mostly, they were monotonous, if not exactly quiet. Isshiri didn’t snap back at the guards again, though he came close once or twice. Which meant that, without the pain compliance aspect of the collar being used against him, he was a little more alert on the rides back to their cells. He listened attentively when Mel gave them his plan in bits and pieces, and promised he’d be ready.

The nights were--well, to not put too fine a point on it, _awful._ The misery of the prisoners and the disdain of the guards had seeped into every pore of this place. It was draining. It made it hard to sleep, and when Luke did sleep, he had uneasy dreams he could never totally remember in the mornings.

By contrast, even with the guards on hand and the ever-present threat in his collar, the days weren’t so bad.

The last night was even more restless than the others. Luke dreamed of a deep, primeval forest, of houses hidden in the branches; which faded into a dream of wings over sand, and a sharp, biting pain on his shoulderblade.

He couldn’t get back to sleep after that dream. He tried meditating, to dispel his unease, but it didn’t help much. He thought about trying to reach out for his father again, but he had no idea how much the atmosphere in this place would affect things.

_Better not to risk it,_ he decided. Vader was still alive, and still on the planet. He could tell that much without looking. That was enough, for now. Once he and the others were away and safe, he could put more focus into his other problems.

It wasn’t long after that when his cell door opened, just as it had every morning he’d been here. Mel and Isshiri were waiting for him in the cart; Isshiri seemed the same as always, but there was a not-quite-nervous tension to Mel that Luke had never seen before.

He waited until the cart got moving then, as quietly as he could, asked, “Today?”

Mel nodded. “Today. Wait for my signal. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Got it.”

“We’ll be ready,” Isshiri said quietly. He hesitated, as if he was about to say something else, and Luke could read it in his face clearly enough.

_If it comes to it, leave me behind. The two of you get out safe._

“We can do this,” Luke said, before Isshiri could say it out loud. “All three of us.” _No one gets left behind._

The kid quirked a smile, and nodded. “Yeah.”

They fell silent again for the rest of the trip to the gate, not wanting to risk _this_ morning being the one the guards happened to hear them over the cart. Not that Luke thought that was likely; he tentatively reached out to check where their minds were, and their attention was not on the prisoners. It was wandering, touching on various minor details of their personal lives, plans for after they got off work and went home.

Their minds were almost _normal,_ aside from that thin, oily layer of distaste they all carried. Luke shivered a little, internally, and pulled back.

He was _not_ looking forward to having to control several of their minds for however long their escape took.

They reached the gate without incident, and acted like everything was normal. Isshiri was surprisingly good at that; Mel still seemed tense to Luke, but he didn’t think the guards picked up on it. He hoped he was covering as well as the others were. It looked like he wasn’t raising any eyebrows, so to speak, at least.

And then they waited.

Luke kept his head down and one eye on Mel, and behaved himself as best he could; Isshiri did the same, at least at first, but he started getting impatient, verging on desperate, after a couple hours. He kept glancing over at Mel, who shook his head every time.

Finally, just after noon, Mel looked up, first at Luke, then at Isshiri, and nodded once.

Isshiri brightened visibly. He moved first, just like they’d planned. He slipped a little in the mud, almost but not quite falling over. Mel went to help him.

The guards started to move and Luke straightened up. “You don’t need to bother with them,” he said, flicking his fingers just slightly and concentrating on their minds. _Three. I can do three._ “There’s nothing to see over there.”

He felt them waver for a second, then snap into place. “There’s...nothing to see over there,” the leader said.

He didn’t have to hold them long; what he’d done had bought Mel enough time to freeze the guards in place--freezing the mud with exact precision so nothing else was damaged, trapping them up to their knees.

“Come on!” Mel said.

Isshiri shook his head. “R-right. Coming.” He looked a little dazed and unsteady.

Mel took his hand. “Runnin’ will warm you up.”

The two of them pelted off to the west. Luke followed, catching the crossbow bolts that were already flying after them mid-air and dropping them to the ground. _Not long until we’re out of range. Then we run for the river, we meet Mel’s contact and then--_

Another crossbow bolt whizzed past, nearly clipping his ear. _That was too close. I’ll worry about then when I get there._

He turned his focus back to protecting himself and his friends from pursuit, and emptied his mind of everything except the immediate danger, following Mel and Isshiri towards the trees and out of Feredar.


	13. Chapter 13

The next three days were mind-numbingly exhausting, spent running as far and as fast as they could. Mel helped Isshiri, and seemed to have some idea where they were going. Probably, whoever had told him about the ship rescuing refugees on the river had given him landmarks. Luke trusted his judgment and his directions. For his part, he kept his focus on keeping pursuit away from him.

Mel asked him about that, on the first night, after Isshiri passed out next to them.

“Whenever anyone gets too close, I’m...sort of nudging them off on a tangent,” Luke explains. “It doesn’t work for long, but it takes them long enough to get back on track to give us some breathing room.”

He nodded. “Amazin’, all the different things you can do.”

Luke hesitated half a breath, and then, when common sense didn't cut him off this time, decided to go for it. “You can do them, too, you know,” he said. “Or, with training you could.”

Mel blinked, and sat up a little straighter. “I can?”

“Yeah. Isshiri, too. None of the others who were down there with us, though. So it’s not the same as your magic. You just...have both.”

“And ‘Sshiri does, too?” He looked down at him, frowning.

“Yeah.” Luke paused again. “When this is over...when we get out of this, I can take you to the person who taught me. Both of you.”

He was still for a moment, thinking that through, then shook his head. “I can’t. Can’t deal with that, not right now. We gotta...there’s too much goin’ on.”

Luke nodded, and backed off. “We can talk about it later.”

Neither of them brought it up again. Mel didn’t ask any more questions the second night, and Luke didn’t want to push things. Instead, he'd asked Mel about his world, and how things had gotten as ugly as they had in Feredar.

"It all ties back to history from centuries ago," Mel said. "There was a dictator, a mage, who did pretty damn terrible things to the population. They overthrew him, but then went reactionary after that, and things got worse and worse until...well, you saw."

"Yeah," Luke said, frowning pensively. _Something to watch out for, I guess. The temptation to punish, instead of seeking justice and peace is...strong. I just hope I'll be able to keep that in check. That's part of what I'm supposed to do as a Jedi, right?_

He'd left it at that, meditating--okay, fine, it was more like brooding--on those problems, and not coming up with much of an answer until they had to get moving again.

At last, midmorning on the third day, Mel paused. “We’re almost there,” he said. “Just another mile or so. ‘Sshiri, how’re you doin’?”

“Could be worse,” he said.

Mel nodded, and picked up the pace just a little.

Luke followed along. He hadn’t sensed anyone behind them since midafternoon yesterday. Maybe their pursuers had given up, though he doubted that as soon as he thought of it. They were probably planning _something_ else, backing off to regroup or draw in some of the freelance hunters, or make their search a little more organized.

_Still, we’re close. Hopefully, we’ll get to wherever this ship is before--_

They broke through the treeline, and the ship was waiting for them.

It was not at all what Luke had pictured, though he realized after half a beat that he probably should have, or something like it. He’d never seen one before, at least not outside of history texts, but it was an actual wooden sailing ship.

It was sleek, bobbing gently in the river, made of a dark hardwood. There were three poles-- _masts, I think that’s the word_ \--with canvas square sails, mostly bound in close, and a few long poles-- _oars_ \--sticking out into the river. There was a carving on the front, that looked vaguely like a man, decorated with slightly faded red and gold paint. A narrow board went from the railing on the closer side of the ship down to the muddy riverbank.

There were about a dozen people that Luke could see, mostly milling over the ship. Most of them were about as dark as Mel, or a few shades darker, but one of the men stood out--he was very pale, with white-blond hair. He was the first to catch sight of the three of them, and, when he did, he turned and said something to the woman standing next to him.

She nodded and turned to them as well. She waved once, then, rather than heading halfway down the ship to the plank, just vaulted over the railing. The river rose up to catch her and take her the rest of the way into the bank.

_I guess she’s a water-mage, like Mel. Except she likes to show off._ Luke hid a grin. _Well, that_ was _probably faster._

She made her way down the bank to them, offering them a smile and a short bow. “I’m Taz Hantree, Captain of the _Mornin’ Glory._ ” She indicated the ship behind them. “You boys are the first who’ve shown up on this run. Is it just the three of you, or…?”

Luke shook his head, feeling a faint stab of guilt. _There weren’t any others with us on the gate when we ran, and…_

_And escaping from deeper in the city would have been much more difficult,_ that common-sense voice in the back of his head pointed out. _Not to mention more dangerous. It would most likely have gotten people killed, including some of the people you were trying to save and innocent bystanders, not just the guards._

_I know. Still._

Isshiri straightened as best he could and smiled back at her, offering a slightly unsteady bow of his own. “Just us. And...thank you, Captain Taz, for being here. I’m Isshiri Loquelin.”

_...huh._ He gave the last name smoothly, easily, but Luke was absolutely positive it wasn’t actually his. _And Mel said he was important._ For a half-second, he was reminded of Leia, held captive on the Death Star. _Was he there as a spy?_ He did know that Isshiri had gotten arrested for something unnecessarily flashy, though the kid han't shared any details. Put that together with what Mel had said, and Isshiri being a spy made a hell of a lot of sense. _But what kind of spy would deliberately put himself through what he did?_

“And my friends are Luke Skywalker and--”

Mel cut him off. “Mel,” he said. “I’m Mel. Like ‘Sshiri said, Captain, we’re glad you’re here.”

Isshiri blinked a little, and Captain Taz frowned for a split second. Both of them were bursting with curiosity. And, Luke had to admit, so was he. There was some kind of cultural baggage there, something that meant Mel didn’t want to use his full name.

But Captain Taz didn’t push, despite how much she clearly wanted to. “Glad I could be here,” she said slowly, after a beat, then glanced over at Isshiri. “Listen, uh, my sister Kes, she serves us for medic. Let me call her over for you, yeah? She’s an air-mage, Unthreaded,” she added, with what was probably a significant look over at Mel.

He ignored it, pointedly looking down at the riverbank instead.

Which obviously meant something to the two of them--they were probably from the same part of the world, given their similar accents. There was a lot being communicated here without words, and Luke was only picking up on half of it.

_I’ll keep an eye on things there, maybe see if I can figure out more. It might have something to do with how Mel ended up so...hopeless, in Feredar. Different from how the others were. Maybe, if I know more, I can help._

“Yeah, talking to your medic would probably be good,” Isshiri agreed. “If we have time…” He glanced over at Luke, who brought his focus back to the conversation at hand.

“We were being followed for a while,” Luke said. “But I think we lost them. I haven’t--um, I don’t think anyone’s been back there since yesterday. I can’t be totally sure, though.”

Captain Taz nodded. “Got it. Well, like I said, you’re the first we’ve had on this run. I’d like to give it another day or so, see if any stragglers catch up. And if you ain’t seen anyone in a while, we’re probably safe to stay. Between the three of us, me and Kes and Dallu can get the _Glory_ movin’ fast as he can before things get too hairy.” She smiled at them again. “I promise, you’re safe now. And we’ll keep you that way, as best we can.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and signalled one of the others on ship; another woman about her age, but a little bit shorter and slighter.

Kes--or, at least, that’s who Luke guessed she was--chose to take the plank rather than jumping, then jogged across the beach to meet them.

“This’s Isshiri,” Taz said. “Check him out, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Kes took Isshiri by the hand and led him a little way down the beach, for privacy.

_I’ll track her down later,_ Luke thought, _make sure I set my shoulder right._ He hadn’t had any major issues with that arm, even with the guards occasionally yanking him along by it, so he figured he was probably okay. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to double check.

For the moment, though, he was caught between Mel and Captain Taz and their increasingly-awkward silence.

Luke was about to try to tactfully intervene--explaining where he was from and asking what probably would come across as stupid questions would do nicely--when someone on the ship whistled sharply, breaking the tension for him.

“Looks like we got more incomin’,” Taz said. “You boys okay on your own?”

“Yes,” Mel said, looking distinctly relieved.

She nodded, then turned to head back to her ship and consult with her people.

Luke closed his eyes and sensed behind them--more refugees, not guards. Half a dozen, or about that many.

“Trouble?” Mel asked.

“No,” he said. “More friends.”

“Good.” He hesitated. “About--look, the thing with me and...it’s a long, complicated story, but I..." He took a breath. "Few years back, I left my ship, my Clan. We don't...'specially mages, we don't _do_ that."

"Oh," Luke said. "She...I can tell you she was more curious than offended, if that helps?"

"I dunno," he said. "She's..." He shook his head. "Maybe. But it don't change that, far as home's concerned, I'm an oathbreaker. No matter my reasons."

Luke opened his mouth to ask to ask what those reasons were.

Mel cut him off with a plaintive look. "And I don’t want...don’t ask, please?”

“I won’t,” he promised. He _wanted_ to, but it wouldn’t be fair to Mel to push on this. “But...you know, I’m here, if you want to talk to a sympathetic outsider. Just say the word.”

Mel gave a shadowed, flickery smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”


	14. Chapter 14

Luke woke up before dawn the next morning, knowing Vader was close.

_Very_ close.

As in, he would be at the campsite within an _hour_ close.

He glanced around to make sure no one was watching and got up as quietly as he could. _Why didn’t I notice him before now? I knew he was close but he shouldn’t have--he shouldn’t have gotten_ this _close without me sensing him...on the other hand, I guess I was more focused on making sure Isshiri and Mel and I got away clean…_

It didn’t really matter much at this point, though. What mattered was intercepting Vader before anyone else got caught up between them. There were too many innocents here--Mel and Isshiri and the other refugees, plus Captain Taz and her people--so he had to move to safer ground.

He took a deep breath, held it for a second to center himself, then picked his way out of the campsite and upriver. He would have felt a little better about this if he was armed, but he would manage.

_I don’t need a weapon,_ he reminded himself, climbing a little awkwardly over a downed tree. _I have the Force. I can do this. I can get through to him. I can_ save _him._

The more he repeated it to himself, the more he believed it.

After about a half hour of walking, he stopped in the middle of the path to wait. _This should be far enough, I think. ...what am I going to_ say _to him?_

_Your focus determines your reality,_ that common sense voice advised. _Trust your instincts._

Luke nodded once, the edge of the collar digging in uncomfortably. He resisted the urge to fidget with it. _Gotta figure out how to get this thing off. After I talk to Vader, after I convince him to come with me._

A few minutes later, just as a dim, cool predawn light began to filter down over them, Vader came into view. And, for the first time in his life, Luke saw his father’s face.

He was pale, bald; with shadowed eyes and long-faded burn scars tracing spiderwebs all over his skin. He was wearing soft brown leather, what looked like local make. Not nearly as intimidating without the armor, of course, but at the same time, he was almost ghostlike in the low light.

Luke hesitated a little. _How...how the hell is he…I thought he needed the armor to breathe?_

He barely had time to ask himself the question when Vader shifted abruptly.

In less time than it took Luke to blink, his father was _moving_ \--activating his lightsaber--coming _right at him--_

He froze.

There wasn’t time to move. There wasn’t time to-- _he’s going to kill me no wait that’s not right he’s not going to kill me he wants me alive he’s always wanted me alive so he’s not going to kill me he’s just going to take my other hand take_ something _oh no this was_ not _the plan what is he--_

He felt heat on his neck and smelled ozone and metal, and then a blinding wash of raw pain drove him to his knees.

It didn’t last long.

When Luke could see and think and breathe again, he was…

He wasn’t hurt.

Vader hadn’t--his father hadn’t hurt him. Not this time.

And his collar, edges still red-hot, was on the ground beside him.

_That...that explains the pain,_ he thought, starting to feel a sort of giddy elation, now that the adrenaline-soaked panic had faded. _Just like when the guard used it before. Cutting it off must trigger that somehow._

He let out a shaky breath and slumped a little, relieved.

“Luke?” Vader said. He had--he hadn't made any other aggressive moves. He had, in fact, taken a step back and deactivated his lightsaber, waiting.

_Okay. Okay. I can do this._

He braced himself, and opened his mouth to speak--

And _then_ a wall of fire sprang up between them.

“Luke!”

He turned. Isshiri, out of breath and visibly straining, was standing behind him, eyes on the fire.

“I’m all right,” he said. “You don’t have to--what are you doing here?”

“You wandered off,” Isshiri said. The fire was already dying down; he didn’t have the strength to maintain it for long. “I was worried. ...and curious. I wanted to know where you were going. Are you _sure_ you’re all right?”

“I’m fine,” Luke said. He looked up at Vader, on the other side of the fire. “I’m _fine._ Everyone’s fine. All right?”

Vader had remained where he was, and was watching Isshiri, face and mind opaque. “Interesting.”

“Father?”

Vader tensed a little, and looked back at Luke. He hesitated a moment, then seemed like he was about to say something, when--

“Vader!”

Behind him, two strangers--a man and a woman, both about Luke’s age--came into view.

Vader sighed, shifting his grip on his lightsaber, without reactivating it, and-- _did he just roll his eyes?_ “This doesn’t concern either of you.”

“What _happened?_ ” the young man asked, taking in the scene with a glance.

The woman, on the other hand, was entirely focused on Isshiri. “Let it go,” she said. “You’re hurting yourself more trying to keep the fire going.”

“Luke?” Isshiri said, glancing at him.

“It’s okay, ‘Sshiri,” he assured him. “Really. He was just--he wasn’t trying to hurt me.” This time, anyway. He flexed his prosthetic hand a little.

Vader caught the gesture. Whatever reaction he had to it, he kept it locked down tight in the Force, though his eyes flickered with something Luke couldn’t quite read. “I wasn’t,” he said. “I just--the collar displeased me.”

“Oh,” Luke said. Because what else could he say to that?

Isshiri nodded, and the fire died down. He wobbled a little, and sat down hard on the ground. “Oof.”

The woman pushed past Vader and made her way over to Isshiri.

“Seelia’s a healer,” her friend said. _Well, I guess maybe that explains how he got out of the armor. Wow. The healers here are...wow._

Isshiri shifted a little, uncertain. “A blood-mage?”

Seelia raised one eyebrow. “You know of any other thread that can heal? Isshiri, was it?”

“Uh, right.” He shifted again. “Hi.”

“I can help you, but I won’t if you refuse.”

“No, it’s…” He took a deep breath. “Yes, if you want to help me, that’s...that’s fine.”

“Luke.” Vader, ignoring the others-- _good, keep ignoring them, it beats the alternative_ \--took a cautious step towards him. “You and I should...there is a great deal we should discuss, I think.”

“Yeah,” Luke said. He hesitated a second, trying to decide where to start-- _this is going so differently from last time,_ he's _different, I wonder what's changed?_ \--when--

“What the hell are you two doin’ all the way out here?”

Apparently, Kes had followed him, too.

Vader growled something under his breath, but his weapon remained off.

“It’s...sort of a long story,” Luke said, trying to subtly shift position to get between Kes and his father. “But...um…”

“Mine isn’t,” Isshiri volunteered. “I was following Luke. Which, I know, wasn’t my brightest move ever, but--”

Vader, head cocked to one side, held up a hand to stop him. And, after half a second, Luke sensed it, too.

“Father--”

“Hold,” Vader snapped, activating his lightsaber again.

“What’s goin’ on?” Kes asked, coming closer and taking up a defensive position in front of Seelia and Isshiri.

A crossbow bolt answered her. Luke caught it in midair and let it drop.

Another followed, and a third, and a half-dozen men in leather armor came over a ridge at them.

_This...this will not end well._

For a half second, none of them moved. The only sound was the hum of Vader’s lightsaber, the red glow for a moment drawing the hunters’ eyes, distracting them.

Then one of them went for his own blade and chaos erupted all around them.


	15. Chapter 15

The thing Vader had always liked most about combat, in every life he had ever lived, was the simplicity of it. The clarity. One moment, his life was full of questions, of uncertainty; Luke in front of him, his too-natural prosthetic almost a reproach; the boy who wove fire, shining bright in the Force--not so bright as Luke, of course, but enough to draw Vader’s attention, calling to mind blue eyes and green blades.

_He’s almost like--_

And there were Arin and Seelia behind him, the woman who had followed Luke and the boy--more complications, questions that had no answers.

But then they were surrounded by men in leather armor, and all of that faded away.

In combat, the world boiled down to the Force enveloping him and the weapon in his hand; to objectives, to assets--and to _targets._

So, his objective--keep Luke alive; prevent his son’s recapture.

As for assets--Arin and Seelia, the fire boy and the woman, all nominally seeking the same objective, or at least a parallel one.

Targets--six of them, ill-equipped to deal with the likes of him, of course, but they knew the terrain and had no one to protect, granting them greater freedom to maneuver.

Vader stood between the targets and his son, his lightsaber active in a low guard position, and smiled.

One of the men--the bravest, perhaps, or simply the most foolhardy--drew a steel blade and rushed him. Vader dispatched him easily--one cut to his wrist to disarm him, and then to his neck as he fell in shock.

_There’s one._

The others had sprung into action barely a heartbeat after the first. Two hung back, armed with crossbows. This had the unfortunate side effect of keeping Vader pinned down--true projectiles, for all their limitations, were more dangerous than blaster bolts in some ways. Harder to deflect--it really amounted more to 'destroy it and make sure the debris flies away from you', rather than reflecting it back to the source--and messier when they hit. To properly defend Luke, he had to stay close.

Luke fell into pattern beside him, catching the bolts in midair, trying to keep them away from the others.

_Fine, he wants them alive, too. I can work with that._ He adjusted his objectives and tactics accordingly, though it hampered his maneuverability even further.

The wind picked up at his back. He spared half a glance to see the woman, still shielding Seelia and the boy, spinning and weaving the air to make a shield around the three of them.

_Good._ He dismissed the three of them from all but the most basic of awareness, and returned his focus to the targets instead.

They’d seen what he could do, and were staying out of range now. Or, at least, what they assumed his range to be.

He smiled again, and reached out with the Force, picking one at random and yanking him close, to be impaled on the lightsaber.

_Behind!_

The second thing Vader had always liked about combat was how, for all its simplicity, for all that clarity he craved, the situation could turn in an instant. What seemed like certain defeat could turn into a magnificent triumph. In another life, he had built a reputation on taking advantage of such instants.

The problem was, the exact _opposite_ was true, too. An easy victory, against a woefully underequipped enemy, could turn into an embarrassing failure in less than a second.

The threat from behind wasn’t armed with a crossbow, or a blade; rather, he had a dart gun of some kind, aimed at Luke. A split second to decide how to handle the situation, and Vader chose to throw Luke to the ground.

It wasn’t until the dart failed to bounce off his shoulder that he realized he’d made a potentially fatal mistake.

He had grown too used to the armor.

Oh, the drug wasn’t a _problem_ \--not in the long term, at least. He knew it was coming, he could isolate it and purge it easily enough.

In a minute or so.

By which time, the fight--such as it was--would be over.

And _then_ things went from bad to worse.

He had lost track of Arin, briefly, during the fray, until he heard the boy shout, “ _Seelia!_ ”

She had been hit by another dart, and Arin panicked. Vader, distracted by the drug and halfway through planning his next move, was not prepared when the boy grabbed hold of the most useful metal in range.

Vader’s prosthetics.

The next instant, he had flown a dozen feet through the air, crashing into Seelia and slamming into a tree. His left arm pounded through it--and _stuck._

The boy had used him as a human shield.

Clever, but with the unfortunate side effect of taking Vader _completely_ out of the fight. And now, he was short on time, and shorter on choices. The drug worked quickly; his vision was already starting to dim. He had to purge it, _now._

Which would take all of his focus, and still leave him trapped in the damned tree.

Another split second decision, the only one he could make.

_This weapon is your life._

“Luke!”

Luke reached up without looking and caught the lightsaber in midair, just as Arin and the woman who wove air went down.

Vader’s focus slipped away at that point, consumed by the process of eliminating the drug in his system. By the time he looked outward again, it was over.<?p>

Arin, the air woman, and Isshiri were gone, as were all but the two hunters he had killed. From there, it wasn’t particularly difficult to reconstruct what had happened.

_Luke must have held back,_ he noted, yanking his arm out from the tree and dropping to the ground, Seelia limp against him. _He hesitated. He was unwilling to kill them. They were not handicapped by similar restraint._ Given that, the negative outcome was all but a foregone conclusion.

Vader dumped Seelia on the ground. Luke wasn’t visible, not right away, but hadn’t been recaptured, at least; Vader was certain of that.

_There._ He picked his way over to the riverbank and--sure enough, Luke had fallen down it. _Too little training, too little experience, too many things flying at his head._ One of the darts had gotten past his guard, and he must have slipped while dazed. He didn’t seem seriously injured, at least; and the hunters had likely decided to cut their losses and retreat with the three captives they already had.

_Bright of them._

Vader let out a breath, reached for Luke with the Force, and lifted him back out of the ravine. _Just bruised. Good._

_...now what?_

It was his turn to hesitate. The comm unit was not quite operational yet, but a few more hours’ work should get it there. He had what he wanted. He had Luke; he even had Seelia on hand to turn over.

_Until she decides to go after Arin,_ that needle-sharp voice that had been questioning his decisions ever since the crash pointed out.

Well, if she tried, he would stop her, of course. She was too potent a weapon to lose. Certainly he couldn’t let her fall into the hands of the people who had put his son in a _collar._

_She would risk it to save him._

He ignored the voice resolutely. It didn’t matter. None of this would matter, as soon as he finished fixing the kriffing comm unit and arranged his extraction. The fight, and the perfect clarity it brought, may have been over, but he refused to allow things to become overcomplicated again.

_I know what I must do._

His bag, with the unit still inside, was right where he’d dropped it when he’d first seen Luke and that kriffing collar. He strode over to retrieve it, and got to work.


	16. Chapter 16

For a while, Luke drifted. He wasn’t exactly sure how long that lasted. Eventually, though, he became aware of things. Bruises, first--always fun to wake up to--then the cold ground beneath him, the dry grass pricking where he’d torn his pants when he fell; the dawn breaking over his face. He was still groggy; the world was still a little fuzzy around the edges, but at least he’d burned through the drug enough that he was aware of it around him again.

He shook his head to clear it. It was still early, so it hadn’t taken him all that long to get rid of the drug; it had probably helped that he’d pulled the dart almost immediately after it had hit him. And it couldn’t have hurt that he’d been expecting it, especially after Vader took that first dart--

_He pushed me down. He protected me. He chose to_ defend _me, rather than lashing out._

It might not mean anything. Or it might mean everything.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could just barely piece everything together, at least for where things stood at the moment. Seelia was unconscious, in a little heap on the ground about four or five meters away from him.

And Isshiri and Kes and Arin were--

There was no sign of them, or the men who had attacked them, other than the two dead bodies.

He bowed his head briefly. _I wasn’t fast enough. I couldn’t save them. And I don’t know how much of a head start they have now. And I have to tell Mel, and Taz, and…and…_

His eyes went to where Vader was--his _father_ was--sitting, further down the path, working on repairing what looked like a comm unit.

_Probably from his fighter. Which means…_

He was almost out of time.

Luke shivered a little, and stood up carefully. The lightsaber Vader had given him during the fight was heavy in his hands, a reminder of everything he stood to lose here.

And everything he just might win.

_This is it, isn’t it. Now or never._

_Remember, your focus determines your reality,_ that common-sense voice advised. _Trust your instincts._

_Right._ Another deep breath, and he walked over to his father, intent on doing everything he possibly could to save him.

* * *

Luke was awake. Vader could hear him moving, could feel him thinking.

_I should say something,_ he thought, but no words came to mind.

“Father?” He approached, stopping just out of reach; the Force sang with his mingled hope and caution.

Luke had used the word earlier, too; and, as before, it inspired a confusing mix of elation and--not shame, Vader did not feel shame, he was above and beyond such things by far.

Regret, perhaps, was a better word for what he felt. Regret, that things had gone so very--that things had not gone the way he’d planned, when he started down this road all those years ago.

His hands, still tangled in the wires, stopped moving. He studied them, rather than looking up at his son’s face. “So. You have accepted the truth.”

“I’ve accepted the truth that you were once Anakin Skywalker, my father.” The words hung in the air between them for a moment, just shy of an accusation. It was only that shining undercurrent of raw _hope_ underlying every word that kept it from being cruel.

Or, perhaps, made it infinitely more so.

“That name…” Vader hesitated, then shook his head. “That was a long time ago, Luke.”

Encouraged, Luke came closer. “But not lost, only forgotten. I _know_ there is good in you. The Emperor hasn’t driven it from you fully. That’s why you couldn’t destroy me, back on Cloud City. It’s why you protected me this morning.”

The small, bruised puncture in his shoulder twinged a little at the thought. “That changes nothing.” Vader resumed working on his comm unit.

“It could, if you let it.” Luke hesitated a second, then sat down across from his father. “Come with me.”

“And do what?” Vader asked, finally looking up. “You don’t know the power of the Dark Side.” _There are some things that cannot be undone, some paths that cannot be unwalked._

_Vos came back,_ that needle-sharp voice reminded him.

_Vos never--he never went as far as I did._

_Ventress, then._

_She never came all the way back._

_But she_ did _come back._

He didn’t have an answer for that.

* * *

“And you’ve forgotten the power of the light,” Luke said quietly, meeting and holding his eyes. They were blue; a few shades darker than his, but the same shape. He hadn’t noticed that before.

Vader broke first, looking down at the comm unit again. “What would you have me do?”

“Let go of your hate,” he said. “I _know_ you can do this. I can feel the conflict within you.”

“And what if it’s...too late, for me?”

“I don’t believe that. And I don’t think you do, either. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here.”

Vader was silent for a long moment.

_Give him a reason,_ common sense suggested. _Give him something specific, and tangible, to accomplish. He does better with that than with abstractions._

“I’m going...I’m going to try and get Isshiri and Arin and Kes back,” Luke said. “I would...I think it would go better, for all of us, if you helped.” He held out the lightsaber, offering it back to Vader. “Please?”

For a long moment, Vader stared at the weapon. Then, all in an instant, it was as if a dam burst inside his mind. Luke was, for a few seconds, almost overwhelmed in the tangled mass of second-hand feelings, too many and too intense to name.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, Vader got control over it again, slamming down his mental shields tighter than Luke had ever managed to do. “All right,” he said, putting the comm unit aside and accepting the lightsaber in its stead. “All right.”

Luke’s heart leapt into his throat. _Did that...is he...I did it. I really did it!_ “You’ll help me save them?”

“Yes.”

“And then--”

He held up a hand to cut him off. “One thing at a time,” he said. He smiled a little, almost uncertainly. “First, we’ll save your friends.”

He nodded, and grinned back. “Thank you, Father. I knew you could--I knew you were still there.”

Vader blinked, then bowed his head in acknowledgement and went to see to Seelia.

The sky was still leaden above them, and Isshiri and Kes and Arin were still missing, but Luke had saved his father from himself. That alone made the morning bright.


	17. Chapter 17

The world didn’t feel different. Not like he’d expected--not like it had the last time he’d made a choice like this. That day, it was like a switch had flipped inside his head, and everything Palpatine had said made _sense,_ in a way that nothing else ever had.

This time...this time was murkier. _Maybe this is what they meant, when they said the Dark Side was easier._

_Are you having second thoughts?_ And there was that needling voice again.

This time, he gave his response some thought. _No. Just...it doesn’t feel real yet. It doesn’t…_

He decided not to worry about it for now. He’d never been very good at introspection anyway, and he had a mission to complete.

Vader-- _no, I’m not--that’s not my name anymore._

Anakin-- _no, that’s not--I’m not_ him _again, either._

He wasn’t even sure which was closer to right at the moment. _Another problem to solve later. One thing at a time._

Seelia was right where he’d dropped her, still unconscious. _So, if she can use her powers on herself, it’s not automatic. It has to be done deliberately._

“Is she all right?” Luke asked.

“Drugged,” he said. “I don’t think she’s hurt.”

“That’s good.” He hesitated. “So, how do we do this? Go right after them, or…?”

The idea was appealing, but on reflection, it was tactically unsound. “No, not yet. They have a substantial head start, and they know the territory better than we do.”

Luke made a face, but nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“What can you tell me about where they’ll be taken?”

“Not much,” he admitted. “It’s a city, they called it Feredar. The prisoners were kept in underground cells, except when they were brought out to work. Mel would be able to tell you more.”

“Mel?”

“He and Isshiri and I escaped together,” Luke said. “He’s...we have to tell him. And Captain Taz, Kes is her sister…”

One of his _favorite_ conversations to have, though it had been decades since he'd bothered. _So sorry, but we royally kriffed up, and someone you love is in danger as a result. But don’t worry, we’re_ working _on fixing it._ He was not looking forward to it. “Fine. What about weapons? What do we have to work with?”

“Uh…” Luke thought for a minute, then shook his head. “I don't have anything with me. They took my blaster when I was captured. I think I have a couple detonators back with my X-wing. A couple spare power packs, too.”

So he hadn't--had a chance to build a new lightsaber yet. _I wonder if he knows where to go for a crystal..._

One problem at a time.

“So, not much.” With what Luke could get, perhaps they could build a bigger bomb, but in order to use it, they’d need to know what to blow up without risking the safety of the captives in the process. Besides, the detonators were not easily accessible, and would likely eat up at least another day retrieving them. Probably not worth backtracking at this point. He could probably salvage similar assets from his own fighter, but it was even farther away.

“Not much, no.” Luke sighed. “What about you?”

“Just my lightsaber.” _Not much, to storm a city. But I’ve done more with less in the past._ He crouched down to pick up Seelia. “We’ll see what Captain Taz and Mel have to offer, then come up with a plan.”

“All right. They’re back this way.”

He nodded. “After you.”

They continued downriver in silence for about a half hour, and were met by a dark woman who strongly resembled Kes-- _this must be Captain Taz_ \--and a pale man hovering at her side.

“ _There_ you are,” Captain Taz said. “Dallu and me were about to send out…” She trailed off, taking the full situation in. “What happened? Where’s Kes?”

“We were attacked,” Luke said. “We didn’t--I’m sorry, Captain, they took her. And Isshiri, and Arin.”

Taz stiffened. “They _took_ her?” She burned with rage and terror at the thought; he knew those feelings well.

The pale man--Dallu?--put a hand on her arm.

He shifted his grip on Seelia, then answered for Luke. “We’re going to rescue them,” he said quietly. “We wanted to coordinate with you first.”

She blinked, and turned to him, eyeing him warily, as if she hadn't noticed he and Seelia were there until just that moment. “Who’re you?” she asked.

“I’m…” And there was the problem. He _still_ didn’t know which name to give.

“He’s my father,” Luke said, stepping in before he actually had to decide. “We got...separated, before I was arrested. He and Seelia and Arin caught up with us right before…”

“Right, okay then.” Taz took a deep breath. “I’m goin’--no, there’s other runaways dependin’ on me, _dammit!_ ”

“Jek can take them back,” the pale man said. “And we can go after Kes. There and back, we’ll probably meet them on the next run. I know you don’t like leaving the _Glory_ to anyone else, but…”

“This is _Kes,_ ” she said. “Fine. You’re right. Jek can--you and Jek can take the others in.”

“Taz--”

“He’ll need you more’n I will,” she said. “Besides, you got your rules, and we’d all be tempted to break ‘em to save Kes, yeah?”

_Non-unified planets are fascinating,_ he thought, in an effort to avoid thinking about anything else Captain Taz was saying.

Dallu nodded, and sighed. “We would. You’re right. I just…”

She kissed him quickly. “I know.” She took a breath, then turned back to the others. “So. What’s the plan?”

“We need to talk to Mel first,” Luke said. “I think he lived in the city for a while before he was arrested. He knows more about the layout.”

“Right,” she said. “Plus, he adores Isshiri, he’ll want to be involved.”

“Yeah, probably,” Luke said.

“All right,” Taz said. “I need to talk to Jek and get them underway. Is your friend gonna be going with them?” she asked, nodding at Seelia.

_No, she’ll want to come, too. She’s in love with Arin._ Which would probably be a terrible idea--given the combat applications of her power, she would either be killed on sight or broken, made into a weapon for her enemies.

_Like I was._

He suppressed that thought. _I cannot deal with that right now._

Depending on how long the drug took to wear off, though, they could just dump her on the ship and deal with her fury after the mission was over. That might be the smart play. Certainly it carried the smaller risk.

On the other hand, having a healer tag along with them might turn out to be useful, and increase everyone else’s chances of getting out alive.

“I doubt it,” he finally answered.

“Well, if she ain’t awake before Jek's ready to leave, we’ll make the choice for her,” Taz said, probably reasoning along the same lines he had. “I’m not waitin’ any longer than I have to.”

“Fair,” he said.

“All right, this way,” she said, then turned and led the rest of them back to where she’d left her ship.


	18. Chapter 18

When Luke and the others got back to the _Morning Glory,_ they split up. Captain Taz and Dallu went to talk to her crew, and get the rest of the refugees on board and on the way to safety, while he and his father started off to find Mel.

But, only a few steps into the camp, Vader paused.

“Father?”

“Seelia’s waking up,” he said. “I may need to...restrain her, to keep her from doing something stupid. Go find your friend, we’ll catch up.”

Luke nodded. “All right.”

Mel wasn’t hard to find, at least. He was about halfway down the riverbank, watching the water with a closed-off expression. At least he wasn't tearing off after Isshiri, the way Captain Taz had come after them. Maybe she'd talked him into staying here, somehow.

“Mel?”

He jumped and looked up. “Hey.” He stood up. “...what happened? Where’s…?”

“He was...we got attacked.” This wasn’t any easier to say the second time.

Mel looked stricken. “He’s--oh, gods. We have to get him back.”

“We will,” Luke said. “I promise. Captain Taz and my father and I, and you too, if you want to--”

“I do,” he said, immediately, scrambling to his feet. “What can I do? Just tell me what to do.”

“First, you’ll need to tell us everything you know about the city,” Luke said. “I think my father has a plan. Or he will, once he knows what we’re getting into.”

He nodded. “Right. Right, then.” He took a deep, shaky breath, visibly struggling to steady himself. “Right.”

“You sure you’re ready for this?”

“Yeah,” Mel said. “I’m sure.”

“Okay. Come on, over here.” Luke started back to where he’d left Seelia and his father.

Sure enough, the blood-mage was awake. Vader had one hand on her arm, holding her in place. Luke and Mel walked in on what was the tail-end of a desperate plea to let her go.

“...would _you_ do, if someone you loved were in that kind of danger?”

The storm of feeling that spun out of his father at that nearly knocked Luke over; it _did_ rock him back on his heels, physically. It was even more intense than the first time the dam had broken, less than an hour earlier.

“Father?” Luke said.

Vader stiffened, and locked everything down tight; nothing else spilled into the Force where Luke could feel it. “You have two choices,” he told Seelia, his tone sharp but even. “You come with us, at our pace, following _our_ plan, or we drug you and put you on that ship so you stay out of our way.”

She glared at him for a minute, then yanked her arm away sullenly. “ _Fine._ ”

“Good.” He half-turned to Luke and Mel, as if he was trying to keep Seelia in sight while talking to them. A burst of relief leaked past the edges of his shields. “You’re Mel?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“I need to know everything you can tell me about the city,” he said.

“Right,” he said. “Basic layout.” He picked up a stick and started sketching in the dirt. “The city’s got six gates--Northgate, Eastgate, Westgate, Southgate, Kingsgate, and Captivesgate. Guards on all of ‘em. If you go in through one of the main gates, you get searched and fill out entry forms. Mages captured outside the city go to Captivesgate. Kingsgate ain’t used much.”

Vader nodded, and crouched down to study the map. “How large is the city?”

“Maybe a day to cross on foot, if you could go in a straight line?” Mel said, after a moment’s thought.

“And where are the captives kept?”

“Underground,” Mel said. “I don’t have a good mental picture of how it lines up to the city proper, though. I’m sorry.”

He waved a hand, accepting this, then turned back to studying the drawing.

Luke was about to ask what he was thinking, when he heard beeping behind him.

_What?_ He blinked and turned, and--sure enough, there was Artoo, wheeling his way through the camp, getting stared at by everyone who saw him. “Artoo? I thought I told you to stay with the ship. What are you doing here?”

That seemed to catch his father’s attention. He looked up from the map, his eyes widening just a hair. “ _Artoo…?_ ”

The little droid caught sight of him in the same second, then shrieked and launched himself at Vader, taking out his electrojabber and slamming it into Vader’s side.

Repeatedly.

“Ow--stop--no-- _stop_ that,” Vader snapped, grabbing the tool with one hand. “I installed that kriffing thing, I can take it out just as easily.”

_...wait, what?_

Artoo beeped at him.

“No.”

More beeping.

“ _No,_ I’m--”

_Beep!_

“It’s complicated, all right?”

“Luke?” Mel asked, wide-eyed, in an undertone. “What the hell…?”

“I’m as lost as you are,” he admitted.

“Are you going to behave if I let go?” Vader said.

Artoo did a credible imitation of blowing a raspberry at him.

“Fine.” Vader let go. Artoo shocked him once more. “Hey!”

Artoo whistled once, then backed off to stand near Luke.

“Father?” Luke asked. “What…?”

“Artoo and I worked together during the Clone Wars,” he said.

_...and then, twenty years later, Uncle Owen bought him because that other droid had a bad motivator, and now...here we are._

“There are no coincidences,” Vader muttered.

_No. No, there aren't._

Artoo beeped a question.

“Well, until _you_ ran over my map, I was trying to figure out how to break into a walled city to free some prisoners.”

The droid whistled, then pulled up a holoprojection of the drawing, just in time for Taz to join them.

“Holy hell,” she breathed. “That is gods-damned _amazin’_. How’s it work?”

“No time to explain,” Vader said, before Luke could try. “That’s a rough layout of the city, based on what Mel’s been able to tell us. The problem is, we don’t know exactly where the prisoners are being held, other than underground somewhere.”

Artoo beeped again.

He considered for a minute, then shook his head. “No, that won’t work.”

“That thing talks?” Taz said. “You can _understand_ it?”

“Him,” Vader and Luke said, in unison.

"And he understand you," Vader added.

Artoo let out that set of beeps that sounded remarkably like snickering, then asked another question.

“Because,” Vader said, “we can’t capture and reprogram the guards.”

_Beep?_

“No, we wouldn’t be able to hold them long enough, not without tipping off the others. Besides, this planet isn't advanced enough for scanners, so they’d have to do a physical search, and we couldn’t hide from that.” He paused, and the set of his shoulders tightened a little. “You know what we could do, though? Kadavo.”

Artoo mulled that over for a minute, then beeped another question.

“No. It won’t be a problem.”

_Beep?_

“Because it hasn’t been for decades,” he said.

_Beep._

“What the hell do you know?” he snapped. “Do you have a better plan?”

The droid was silent for a minute, then whistled a sullen negative.

“So. The question is how to sneak you in with the lightsaber…”

“I’m...really confused,” Luke said. “What are we doing?”

“First, we’ll need to get leather armor, like the hunters we saw wore. We can take it off the bodies and patch it well enough to get us past the guards, I think,” Vader said. “Two of us will wear that, and bring the rest to Captivesgate,” he said. “As prisoners. Easiest way to find your friends.”

“There’s only a dozen prisoners in each set of cells,” Mel said. “No way to be sure whoever’s in as a captive gets taken to the right one.”

“Luke or I can implant the right suggestion into the guard’s mind,” Vader said. “Once the others have been found, whoever goes down will signal the others, and we make our escape.”

“How’re we doin’ that?” Taz asked.

“However we can,” Vader said.

“Father and I aren’t mages, exactly,” Luke added. “The collars don’t suppress our powers. Plus, whoever plays hunter won’t be restrained.”

“Exactly,” his father agreed. “We can fight our way out from there.”

“I think we should maybe have a third party in play,” Taz said. “At least one of us goes in as an ordinary person, through one of the regular gates. Forms’re easy to lie on, and then there’s a backup if things go haywire on your end.”

“I agree,” Vader said.

“I’m goin’ in as a captive,” Taz said. “Either me or Seelia’s got to, in case they separate captives by sex, and we don’t want those monsters holdin’ a b-blood-mage.”

“I’ll go with you,” Mel said.

“Are any of the hunters women?” Luke asked. It probably made the most sense to split him and his father up. It would be easier for them to find each other and make contact once inside.

“Some,” Mel said. “Not many.”

“Then Seelia and I will play hunters,” Vader decided. “Luke, you should be able to sneak Artoo in past the guards. We’ll give him my lightsaber until we need it.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can handle that.”

That decided--and the _Glory_ finally underway and moving downriver--the six of them headed back to the clearing where they’d been attacked earlier.

And that was when things started to go wrong.

It was obvious as soon as he tried that Vader would never be able to get the hunters’ gloves or boots over his prosthetics. Removing the bulking gauntlets over the skeletal understructure only made things worse--his hands were too obviously unnatural.

“ _Damn_ it,” Vader snarled, tossing one of the gloves away.

“So, you and I switch places,” Luke suggested.

“No,” Vader said. “I’m too obvious." He paused and, through gritted teeth, spat out, "I’ll have to go in as a captive. We’ll say I’m a metal-mage.”

Artoo whistled uneasily, and Luke started to ask--Uncle Owen hadn’t told him much about his father, and he hadn't liked talking about his grandmother. And Luke had no way of knowing how much of what he _had_ been told was true, so he didn’t have much to go on. But there was definitely _some_ sort of history here that Artoo knew and he didn’t that might cause problems.

But, “It’ll be _fine,_ ” Vader said. “Drop it.”

_Probably better not to push. If he says he can handle it, he can handle it. I’ll ask later._ “Then I’ll go as a guard,” Luke said. _And stay close to you as long as possible, just in case._ “We can say Artoo was yours--when they brought me in, the guard at Captivesgate said they didn’t keep track of what belonged to the mages before they were arrested. I guess they’re bonus loot for the hunters, or something. Seelia can come in through the main gate.” _I think that might be safer, anyway. Westgate is closest, and that’s where I was working. Even if Vodan is on duty again, I can fool him a lot easier than I can fool guards who watched me for hours on end several days in a row._

“Which means Mel plays guard as well,” Seelia said.

Mel didn’t look very happy about that, but he nodded. “Fine.”

“So. There we are,” Vader said. He stood up and retrieved the glove he’d thrown, handing it to Mel. “Let’s get this over with.”

Mel stared down at the glove for another moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”


	19. Chapter 19

Two days later, the city was in sight.

Seelia split off from them early that morning, having agreed on a landmark where she would meet Mel and Luke once the rest of them were established.

Luke and Mel were deeply uneasy; Vader--he had settled on continuing to use that name for now; it was easier than explaining things to Seelia and the others, and he wasn’t bound by the decision long-term--could read that clearly from both of them. Mel more so than Luke, most likely due to his own experiences on the other side of this situation.

Taz was full of focused fury, all her thoughts on her sister. Vader knew that feeling, all too well. If she thought she had to, she would raze the city from the inside to keep her sister safe.

As for himself…

It helped, to think of this as just ordinary temporary surrender--like the time he’d infiltrated Dooku’s ship as a prisoner, right before Hondo Ohnaka had captured them all--rather than considering all the implications of _this_ particular captivity. At least, as much as he could. Those implications were always waiting, hovering just at the edges of his perceptions.

So it helped, yes. But not much.

_The sooner we finish this, the better,_ he decided. He was fine, for now. He couldn't answer for how he'd react if he spent more than a day or two in the city.

They reached Captivesgate without any incident. Vader and Taz had their hands bound behind them. That much was real; they didn’t want to slip free ahead of schedule, and it would have to hold up if they were examined closely. Artoo trundled along to Luke’s left, with a rope ostensibly dragging him. He did a credible impression of being moved only by that rope. It wouldn’t fool anyone who knew droids, of course, but the guards here, with their more limited experiences, would believe it.

The guard who met them was a short, older, balding man. His eyes narrowed when he saw Luke and Mel. “Do I know you?”

“We’re new to the area,” Luke said, moving his fingers just the barest amount. Vader felt him nudge the guard’s mind--not enough to actually compel him to do anything, not yet; just to make quiet his suspicions. “We found these two, and we need the money.”

The guard’s weak mind caved almost instantly. _Good,_ Vader thought. _My part will be less difficult._ “Right. Names?”

“Sedrek and Den,” Luke said. Taz and Seelia had picked the names, ones that would seem normal for their cover identities, just in case there were records that might trip them up. Luke's alias was a common one on this part of the continent, and Mel's was reasonably common in the Islands.

“What’ve you got for us?”

“This one’s metal,” Mel said, indicating Vader. He spoke carefully, doing his best to minimize his accent. He couldn't completely hide his origins, but presenting himself as a long-term expatriate turned hunter would raise fewer eyebrows, or so the others had thought. “Look at his hands, s’how they work, see? And he made this thing move without the ropes, too.”

“Huh,” the guard said. “What about the female?”

“Water,” Luke said. “We caught her by the river.”

The guard nodded, and circled Vader and Taz for a moment. “Fine, I’ll take them. Go to Southgate to get paid. Watch them while I get collars.”

“Of course,” Luke said. As soon as the guard’s back was turned, he whispered, “You two holding up all right?”

“Fine,” Vader said.

“Not lookin’ forward to the collar,” Taz admitted. “But I’ll live.”

The guard returned moments later with a pair of collars. One was metal, near-identical to the one he’d cut off of Mel on the way here. The other was hardened, lacquered leather.

_...oh, perfect,_ Vader thought. _If I’m supposed to manipulate my prosthetics using metal-magic--_ He hadn't thought of that before--possibly deliberately. Now, it was unavoidable. _Damn it, this is_ not _going to be fun. The legs--fine, I can counterfeit that, just move awkwardly. But I can’t use my_ hands _where they can see, not until we’re ready to move. Damn it._

He let himself wobble a little when the collar snapped into place, and forced his arms to go limp.

“Follow,” the guard said.

Vader, taking care not to bend his knees or otherwise give away that he still had perfect control over his limbs, followed behind Taz. He did not look back at Luke, though he could feel his son watching him, and his growing concern.

He took a breath, held it for a moment, then reached for the guard’s mind.

_Excellent. He’s the one who processed the others on their way in. He knows where they are._ He nudged the man’s mind, just the barest suggestion that the same cell blocks would be the best place to leave him and Taz.

The guard hesitated in the middle of the hallway, shaking his head slightly.

Taz looked back at Vader, alarmed.

Vader sighed internally. This process was much easier with verbal cues, but he didn’t want to risk being overheard. _Let’s try this again._ He frowned faintly and pushed harder at the guard’s mind. Unlike Seelia’s, it gave way long before reaching a dangerous level of pressure.

The guard shook his head again. “Don’t know what I was thinking,” he muttered to himself, then took a different passage than he’d originally planned.

Taz’s gate came up first. A female guard stationed at it exchanged passwords with their escort, then grabbed the Captain by her collar and dragged her in.

Vader made a mental note of the positioning of the entrance, and the slightly warped lamp next to it. _All right. I won't have any trouble finding it later._

His own prison wasn’t far past it, either. _That will make things easier._ The guard handed him off in much the same way, and Vader was deposited in a cell without a word.

Once he was alone, he stretched out with the Force. Isshiri, being sensitive, was easy to find.

Vader brushed his mind lightly. _Can you hear me?_

For a few seconds, there was nothing, then a jolt of surprise. _What…? How…? You’re in my head!_

_Not exactly,_ he said. _I’m in the cell...three down from yours. We’re here to rescue you._

_By getting yourself arrested?_ the boy asked, bewildered. _You’re as crazy as I am._

That thought came with the accompanying image of building a near-life-sized dragon out of fire in front of half a dozen law enforcement officials and letting it dance around a marketplace. Vader bit back a smile. Privately, he thought, _I don’t think even_ I _was ever_ that _crazy._ He turned his focus back to Isshiri’s mind, and said, _Crazy or not, we’re here. Luke and Mel are outside, as is Seelia. Captain Taz is finding Kes. When it’s time, we’ll grab them and run._

_All right,_ Isshiri said. He still seemed a little doubtful, but Vader was confident the boy would follow his lead.

_When we move, I’m going to need your help._

_Of course,_ he said. _What do you need me to do?_

_When they take us out in the morning, you’ll need to convince the guards to pull you, me, and Arin out of our cells last, and keep us together,_ he said.

_How?_

_Like this._ He talked Isshiri through the process of working a mind trick as best he could--it would be easier if they had someone for the boy to practice on, but that would tip their hand. But the boy was strong in the Force and mentally flexible. He grasped the concept quickly enough.

When he was as confident of Isshiri’s understanding as he could be under the circumstances, he closed the contact, reached out briefly to Luke, to let him know they were embedded as planned, then settled back to wait out the rest of the night.

In the morning, if nothing went wrong before then, they would break free.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, this chapter overlaps with/takes place at the same time as the last one. I decided to lay it out this way for continuity of POV--just wanted to give a heads up, in case it's confusing.

Luke and Mel had gotten through Southgate without issue, paid in heavy gold coins with a man's face stamped on them for Vader and Taz. It hadn’t been hard to get Artoo through customs--he’d convinced the guard that the droid didn’t need to be inspected too closely, that they were just going to sell him for scrap. He hadn’t even needed much of a mind trick to pull it off. _People see what they want to see, I guess, and they see us as--what they consider trustworthy._

He really didn't like that thought. It weighed on him, like the coins did--the value of an intact female water-mage and a damaged male metal-mage. _I...don’t think I’m going to tell Father that part._

“This way,” Mel said, touching his arm to get his attention. “Place we’re meetin’ her is pretty public, so we might get overheard but we won’t stick out.”

“Right,” Luke said, dragging himself out of his thoughts.

Assuming everything went to plan, they would meet up with Seelia and then scout out a base near Captivesgate. With limited knowledge of the prison complex, they had decided it would be easiest for Father to guide the others out the same way they’d been brought in. He was supposed to contact Luke once he’d made contact with Isshiri and gotten him into position, and then go silent until they were ready to meet up.

Once they hit the surface, though, things would get complicated. Captivesgate was, as a rule, not a way _out_ of the city. Which meant they’d have to either disappear into the crowd--all but impossible, since most of them would be collared--or fight their way past the guards and run.

Which was part of where Seelia came in. In addition to being innocuous, and having more time to scout the city, it was up to her to get them some sort of vehicle, to at least get some distance between them and the city before a real pursuit could be organized. _It’s not much, but hopefully it’ll be enough._

They rounded another corner and entered a crowded market square. Most of what was being sold seemed to be clothing and jewelry, so while it was loud and sometimes difficult to work their way around, there weren’t any intense smells or slick places where something liquid had been spilled.

Luke kept ‘dragging’ Artoo behind him, and got more than a few curious looks.

“The hell is that thing?” one of the jewelry vendors shouted at him.

“Beats me,” Luke shouted back. “Interested in buying it?”

He snorted. “Not if I don’t know what it is. You look like you could use a new cloak pin, though. I’ve got some nice ones, should fit right into your price range…”

“Sorry, we’re meeting up with a friend,” Luke said. “Maybe later, though.”

The vendor waved a hand dismissively and moved on to a more likely prospect.

Mel wove through the crowd to a fountain near the center of the square. Seelia was perched on the edge of it, just as planned.

_So far, so good,_ Luke thought.

She looked up at them and waved, giving a smile that only looked a little bit forced. “Sedrek, Den, over here!”

Luke and Mel made their way over to her, and she stood up and gave each of them a hug.

“This place makes my skin crawl, Skywalker,” she whispered. “How much longer until we get Arin and get out?”

“I haven’t heard from Father yet,” he murmured back, then let go before the hug looked awkwardly long.

Seelia sighed, and bit back what was probably a very cranky reply, forcing her smile back in place. “I found somewhere for us to stay,” she said, out loud. “It’s not in the best neighborhood, but it’s clean.”

“Bet it beats some’ve the places I’ve stayed,” Mel said. “Wanna show us?”

“Sure,” she said, grabbing her bag off the fountain. “Follow me!”

Seelia led them through several winding streets, counting doors and turns on her fingers, back towards Captivesgate. She kept up a rambling, lighthearted chatter, about how different the city was from the village where she’d grown up, and other innocuous things, just in case anyone was listening. Mel took care of responding to her, while Luke kept an eye out for trouble.

There wasn’t any; most of the attention they attracted was directed at Artoo and, other than similar surface questions like the ones he’d gotten from the jewelry vendor, no one did much other than stare.

Finally, Seelia turned down one last street, and pointed to a building at the end. “There,” she said. “We’re about half a mile from Captivesgate. It’s the best I could do with what we had…”

“It’ll be great,” Luke said, smiling at her. It wasn’t as close as they’d hoped, so making their approach at dawn might draw attention, but it was still workable.

She nodded, and let them in before dropping her smile. “Anyone listening?”

Luke closed his eyes and stretched out in the Force, sensing no one. “I think we’re clear. Artoo, double check for me?”

The droid beeped softly and, with a faint whirring noise, scanned the area. When he didn’t let off any alarm noises, Luke figured they were okay.

“We’re clear,” he said.

“Good. You guys have any trouble on the way in?”

Mel shook his head. “Smooth sailin’, all the way. Handoff went well, and customs didn’t throw up any red flags. What about you?”

“I got us a cart,” Seelia said. “But I couldn’t get a horse, not with what we had coming in. Even if I had, I wouldn’t have had anywhere to put it.”

“It won’t be easy, if the ground isn’t level, but Artoo can probably pull the cart,” Luke said. The droid beeped an affirmative.

“So, that’s taken care of,” she said. “Any word from Vader?”

He shook his head. “But I’m not really expecting it just yet. If I don’t hear anything before midnight, I’ll reach out to him.” It might take Vader a while to make contact with Isshiri, and teach the kid what he'd need to know, after all.

“And you’re sure he can get everyone to the entrance we’ll be watching?”

“Yes,” Luke said.

“All right,” she said. “So...now what do we do? Just sit around and wait?”

“If we can do it without getting spotted, I think we should try to scout out the entrance,” Luke said. “Figure out the best places to be tomorrow.”

“As long as we’re doing something,” Seelia said.

“Artoo, stay here,” Luke said. “Keep an eye out for trouble.”

The droid beeped, and Luke and the two mages headed back out to prepare as best they could for the next day.


	21. Chapter 21

Morning had come.

He could sense the change in the guards around him, if not in the environment itself. He reached out briefly--first to Isshiri, then to Luke; _Be ready._

He got an equally-brief acknowledgement from each of them--Isshiri was tense, Luke was calm--then closed his eyes and let out a breath.

It took him a few minutes of ghosting through the minds in the complex to find the one he wanted; the guard stationed at the cell block with the bent lamp. _Those two, the dark ones who look like sisters, leave them for last. Load the others as always. Those two can wait._

The mind rippled under his touch, then obeyed, just as his door opened. He made a show of struggling to his feet, maintaining the illusion that his limbs didn’t work properly with the collar on. The less Isshiri had to compensate for in controlling his target, the better.

The guard sighed impatiently then, with a palpable air of disgust, grabbed one of his arms and hauled him to his feet.

Isshiri was waiting in the passageway behind him, eyes squeezed shut, wearing an expression of intense concentration. Arin was next to him, looking more confused than anything else--confusion which shifted into surprise when he saw Vader in the last cell.

He felt Isshiri nudge the guard’s mind--somewhat clumsily, but it got the job done.

“Move,” the guard said, pushing him forward. He cooperated, walking stiffly towards the entry of the cell block.

He reached for Taz and Kes’s guard again, and found her halfway through dragging Kes out. Taz was already waiting. _Bring them to the intake door. They are assigned to Captivesgate today._

The guard’s mind struggled more against this order--it was more foreign to her usual experience than changing up the order of assignments of the captives in her charge.

He pushed a little harder. _The intake door. Now. Take them there and await further instructions._

She caved under the pressure, leaving him free to bring his own attention to his immediate surroundings.

They had reached the door. This was as far as Isshiri could take them. The guard was already coming out from under his compulsion, blinking in confusion that would all too quickly turn to punishment.

But _he_ was faster, and the guard had no idea he could move.

In a flash, he spun and punched the guard solidly in the jaw, with enough force to break it and knock the man unconscious. _As annoying as it's been since we got here, having a metal hand_ is _useful sometimes,_ he thought absently. _If I still had a real one, that would have broken my fingers._

“We need to move,” he said to the boys. “Quickly.” He shoved the door open using the Force--at this point, it didn’t really matter how much of a trail they left, so long as they had a head start--and led the way down the path to where Taz and Kes were waiting.

Their guard was waiting, blank-eyed and compliant, on the other side of the gate. He’d known he would need eye contact and a verbal command to get her to let them out, and so he’d held off on that until now.

“You will open the door,” he said, waving his hand.

“I will...open the door,” she echoed, and fumbled for her keys. It took longer than he liked, but at least she was no longer effectively resisting him.

The door creaked outward on its hinges, and Taz and Kes slipped through.

“Now, you will go to sleep.”

“I will go to sleep.” She dropped out of view, sitting down on the ground.

“That’s...possibly the creepiest damn thing I've ever seen,” Taz said. “But _amazin’._ ”

He smiled briefly at her. “This way,” he said. “Luke and the others should be in position by now. I’ll take point. Captain, you take the rear.” The others had been locked up longer, and might not be as capable of fighting back, should they be interrupted.

She nodded, and fell in.

Despite their precautions, their hike back up to the surface, while tense, was undisturbed. None of the guards still on duty were paying attention to people coming this direction; blinding them to his group’s passage was as easy as--well, breathing.

He grinned a little to himself at the metaphor.

At length, they saw a light at the end of the tunnel; their exit.

“This is where the fun begins,” Taz muttered behind him, making him pause for a second.

 _I used to say that, before combat,_ he thought. _It’s been a long time._ “This is where the fun begins,” he echoed.

He paused briefly before opening the door, stretching out to sense-- _two guards. Shouldn’t be a problem._ He glanced back and held up two fingers. He took a breath to center himself, then reached through the wall to the right of the door, grabbing the closer guard and holding him fast against it. “Go, quickly!”

Arin, who was right behind him, pushed the door open and stumbled out, dodging the second guard’s hammerstrike more by luck than anything else.

“Got you!” That was Seelia’s voice; the second guard choked for a second, then dropped to the ground with a muffled thud.

 _She cut off the blood to his brain, most likely,_ he thought. Quick and efficient. He entirely approved.

He got a grip on the first guard's throat and _squeezed._ He struggled more wildly for a few seconds, then went limp as well.

Dropping the guard, he extracted himself from the wall and came through the door after Taz, to find Seelia and Mel waiting for them.

“Luke and Artoo are closer to the gate,” Seelia said. She scanned them all. “I think we can make it. Put those two inside, we’ll seal it after."

Kes nodded, and, with Taz and Arin helping, got the two guards inside.

Seelia smiled. “Great. Mel?”

The water-mage nodded, and pulled from a pail of water near the door, pouring it into the wood; warping it so it would stick in its frame. _Clever._

“This way,” she said, leading them through the streets as quick as they could manage. With Mel helping Isshiri, they made good time.

They managed to avoid running into any guards until just as the cart came into view. Luke had hooked Artoo up to it with some kind of makeshift harness-- _right, no engines, he had to improvise_ \--but there were a half-dozen targets between them.

“Artoo, now!” he shouted, and the droid obliged, firing the lightsaber out of his dome.

It landed neatly in his palm, and was activated less than a heartbeat later. He spun outwards at the guards, driving them away; carving a path for the others to take. He only had to kill one of them before the others held back, treating him and his blade with the respect they deserved.

 _Easier than expected,_ he thought, and immediately regretted it. There was no such thing as luck, good or bad, but there _was,_ on occasion, such a thing as tempting fate.

That temptation, however, took an unexpected form.

Once they were all more or less in the cart, Artoo got them moving, towards Captivesgate and freedom. It wasn't a very comfortable ride--the road was bumpy, cobbled--but they made decent time.

When they reached the gate, though, things changed in a heartbeat.

The guard, seeing them bearing down towards him, did the smart thing and dove out of the way rather than risk getting run over. He started for an alarm bell, then stopped, catching sight of Luke.

“ _You!_ ”

The memory burst into the guard’s surface thoughts; a memory of examining Luke, of processing his intake, of putting a collar on him.

Vader saw red. This guard, this-- _person,_ had dared put a collar on _his_ son!

His lightsaber was out and active in his hand again, and he was half out of the cart, ready to remove the bastard’s head from his shoulder when Luke caught him.

“Father, _don’t,_ ” Luke said, catching his arm.

He paused.

“Please.”

 _Don’t do this in my name. You’ve come so far, this is_ not _what I want from you, ever._

He fell back, and they made it through the gate.

Luke relaxed, cleared his throat awkwardly, and let go. He gave a brilliant smile. “Thank you. For not--thank you.”

Trying to ignore how much that words meant to him, he shook his head. “I should have, anyway. He’ll follow. He’ll call for support, and _they’ll_ follow.”

“Then we’ll deal with that when it comes.”

He nodded once, and eyed the gate behind them. _If I could just collapse it, that would give us a substantial head start. Maybe we should have gone back for those detonators after all._

He started to clip his lightsaber back to his belt, then paused.

_This weapon is your life._

But on the other hand…

_This is not a life I want anymore._

And there it was-- _there_ was the switch flipping, the clarity of purpose he’d been searching for since agreeing to help Luke several days before.

“Father?”

He shifted his grip on the lightsaber, and flung it at the gate. Concentrating, he felt for the inner workings, adjusting the wires in the emitter matrix _just so._

A split second later, it made contact with the wall and exploded, bringing the gate down with it.

As a fine coat of rubble and rock dust rained down around them, Anakin Skywalker and his new allies left Feredar together.


	22. Epilogue

They reached the river two days later, all of them safe and intact, to find the _Glory,_ just returned from dropping off the last group of refugees, waiting for them.

Mel, Isshiri, and Arin had left with the tide that same afternoon, joining Taz and Kes on the ship, heading towards safer territory. Whether or not Isshiri was a spy--and whoever he was spying for, if he was--that was probably the best place for him to be, for now.

Seelia had exchanged a private and tearful goodbye with Arin, but would be returning to Heartwood, to resume her duties there. And, if possible, convince her leadership that the situation in Feredar had deteriorated to the point where they had to come out of their centuries-long neutrality and intervene. Arin had, before he left, promised to come back and join her when he could. Luke hoped he would make it there, someday.

Luke and his father hadn’t talked much, since escaping Feredar. There had been too much to do--keep moving, take turns keeping watch and distracting pursuit--and too many people around to listen in. But now they were all but alone, walking side by side down the river. Still, despite having all the opportunity they needed, they were quiet; now that the immediate crisis was over, neither of them, he was pretty sure, knew exactly what to say.

He was, of course, planning to continue west with Artoo, back to his X-wing and then offplanet. Artoo had told him, through his father’s translation, that the X-wing was flight-ready, at least for a short trip.

His father was headed back to Heartwood, to get his own fighter off the ground. But from there...

Luke hesitated half a second, then broke the silence. “Come with me,” he suggested, and it was only half-impulsive. “I can wait a few days until you’re ready to fly. We can leave together.” Without the armor, they _might_ be able to at least talk to Leia without getting shot on sight, once they got to Tatooine. And once they did, she’d probably know how to handle bringing Mon Mothma and the rest of the leadership on board with his father’s defection.

“No,” he said quietly. “No, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“I guess not,” Luke said, disappointed. _He’s probably right. Still, I wish he could._ And then he considered the other--much more worrying--possibility. “Will you...will you go back to…?”

But, to Luke’s relief, his father smiled faintly and shook his head. “No. Frankly, I'm a _terrible_ liar. I will never be able to convince my--the Emperor that I still serve him. Not in person. And anything less would be death. There will be...someday, someday soon, I will face him again, but I’m...too unsettled, still, for that confrontation. If I stay away, I can probably buy a little time before he discovers me, and strike when the moment is right. Besides," he added, his smile turning wry, "this way, when your Rebel friends get a chance to debrief me properly, my intel might still be useful.”

“All right,” Luke said. “Then...where will you go from here?”

He didn’t respond right away, just watched the horizon as they continued another few meters down the river. Luke kept pace beside him, waiting while he thought it through.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “I have some...there are a number of things I need to consider.”

Luke nodded. It wasn’t a surprising answer, exactly, even if it wasn’t really what he’d hoped for. Not that he knew exactly _what_ he’d been hoping for, either; just that he felt a vague sense of disappointment. “How will I find you? ...you will _let_ me find you again, right?”

“Of course I will,” he said. “Or, at least, that’s the plan, anyway.”

“The plan?” Which, okay, to be fair, there were any number of things that might make that impossible, whatever the two of them might want.

“Yes.” He considered for a moment, then scanned the ground below him. Luke was about to ask what he was looking for, when-- “Ah, here.” He picked up a piece of slate, and scratched a name and a string of numbers onto it before passing it over to Luke. “Come to these coordinates in six months.”

Luke studied it for a minute. Mostly because it took him that long to decipher the handwritten message--which, to be fair, probably wasn’t made any more legible by the medium. Once he parsed it all out, he frowned at the slate, then looked back up at his father. It wasn’t a system he was familiar with. “Honoghr?”

He nodded. “Yes. If I'm still alive, I’ll meet you and whomever you choose to bring to debrief me there.” He smiled grimly. “If not, tell the Noghri that you are my son, and they will follow you anywhere. That much, I can guarantee.”

There was a story there, but it was one Luke decided not to chase down right then. He’d see his father again in six months, after all. There would be more than enough time to get all his questions answered then--about Honoghr and the Noghri and so many more things. Besides, the others were all on Tatooine, and they were just waiting on him to rescue Han. And, while he’d considered it before and still sort of liked the idea of hanging around on the planet until his father was ready to leave, too, that wasn’t really fair to Han and the others. They needed him, too.

 _So, Honoghr. We’ll be there soon enough._ “I’ll see you in six months, then,” Luke said.

His father inclined his head, and the two of them walked in companionable silence back to the campsite, where Artoo and Seelia were waiting for them to leave Feredar and its planet behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that brings _The Phoenix_ to a close! I do have some other works in the pipeline--details about what's coming soonest can be found on [my writing tumblr.](http://shadowsong26fic.tumblr.com/post/153761358822/news)
> 
> I do have more in this particular timeline at least partially plotted out, too. It maybe a bit before it shows up, but we'll see how things play out for Isshiri and Mel and Seelia and the others (plus a few major figures from _Farglass Cycle_ canon who did not make it into this fic), and, of course, set up and arrive at a meeting on Honoghr...
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me so far!
> 
> ~shadowsong


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